Escape
by Phoenix Moon 13
Summary: Sometimes there are no next times, no time outs, no second chances, sometimes it's now or never. A B/A fic, because "Love is something you can't shake."
1. Craters

**_Escape  
_Chapter One: Craters**

* * *

Here's how it goes  
You and me  
Up and down  
But maybe this time  
We'll get it right  
Worth the fight  
'Cause love it something you can't shake

- _Escape, _Enrique Iglesias

* * *

A wind picked up and Buffy swayed forward slightly. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and took a deep shuddering breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Willow, Giles and Xander drift back toward the school bus. She sighed and took a step back away from the crater.

"Goodbye, Spike," she whispered to the wind. "And thank you."

She turned away from the crater and walked slowly back to the school bus. Giles smiled at her as she boarded and she returned it, but it felt forced and insincere. She moved to the back of the bus. Passed Faith who was frowning deeply as she pressed a makeshift bandage to Principal Wood's abdomen. Passed Willow and Kennedy who were holding each other tightly, passed Dawn who didn't attempt a smile, merely nodded in understanding and returned to gently prodding Andrew's arm. Xander was slumped against the window, staring impassively at the landscape as it shuddered past. Silent tears coursed down his face and Buffy reached out to squeeze his shoulder. He turned to her and his face broke her heart. With shaking fingers, he took her hand and squeezed. Then his hand went limp and slipped down to his lap. His head slumped back against the window with a dull thump and Buffy left him to his grief.

She found an empty seat at the back of the bus and sank into it. Heads bobbed over the seats ahead of her and she sighed. Everyone had someone but her. Faith was with Wood, Willow was with Kennedy, Dawn was taking care of Andrew. All the girls had paired up. The only person that sat as alone as she was, was Xander, but Anya's ghost hung around him like a shroud, making him less alone than she felt.

She felt strangely empty. She didn't have to worry anymore. Not about slaying or apocalypses. She didn't have to worry about Spike.

She hadn't been lying. She had told him the truth. But he had been right. She loved him, just not like that, but she thought he deserved to hear it at least once before he died to save her and her friends.

But in truth, she had only ever loved one person in her entire life. Of course, she loved her friends, her family. But _that_ kind of love, well, that was reserved for one person only.

She stood up and moved to the front of the bus.

"You ok?" she asked Wood.

"I'll be fine," he answered. "Just as soon as I get to a hospital."

"Where we going, B?" Faith asked, not looking up as she checked the wound before covering it up again.

"LA," Buffy answered.

Faith looked up then, eyebrow raised. Buffy shrugged and turned away, wondering where that idea had sprung from. She carried on down the bus, gripping seats as she went, checking on the girls, Willow and her sister and Andrew as she went.

"Hey," she greeted Giles, holding onto the back of the driver's seat.

He shot her a glance and smiled.

"How are you?" he answered.

"Fine," she replied.

"How's Xander?" he asked, his voice tight, eyes focused a little too intently on the road.

"Grieving," Buffy said softly. "He's just lost the woman he loved. And we've just lost a friend. Friends."

He glanced at her, nodding.

"Ah, yes," he said. "Spike. He did the right thing, Buffy."

"I know that," she stated. "And he knew that too."

"Any idea where we're going?" he asked. "I take it Cleveland's out until we've been to a hospital?"

"Cleveland's out for a while, Giles," Buffy answered. "We've had a rough time these last few months and I know we're gonna have to sort out this new Slayer thing soon, but I think we deserve a holiday."

"Hear, hear," Giles agreed, "I was rather hoping you'd say that. So where are we going for this well deserved break?"

"I was thinking… LA," Buffy said slowly.

"I see," he nodded. "Well, he has got a hotel after all."

"Giles, it's got nothing to do with him," Buffy replied. "LA's the nearest place with a hospital."

"And free accommodation," Giles answered, shooting her a wry smile.

* * *

Angel settled in the chair and closed his eyes. He heard the gentle rustlings of Fred in her room down the hall, Gunn walking across another room, the flicking sound of paper as Wes took notes on something and the gargle of water from Lorne's room. He listened to them, anything to chase away all the other thoughts. All the other thoughts that wouldn't leave him the hell alone.

He wanted to ignore the picture of Cordelia's body lying still and silent, not breathing, cold and dead. He wanted to close his ears to Lilah's voice telling him that once he signed, that would be it, no more Connor. He wanted to forget the way the others carried on, happy, hesitant about their deal with Wolfram and Hart, as though nothing was missing.

He wanted to pretend that seeing Buffy had been a dream. A horrible nightmare. He didn't want to think about how she had freely admitted that Spike was in her heart. How he had been replaced.

Angel opened his eyes and stood up, crossing his room to the closet, opening it, he pushed through the endless supply of dark tops to a green sweater. It was all he had left. All he had left of his son. And he couldn't leave it there, anyone could find it. He had lost count of the number of times he had lent Wes a shirt when his got ruined in a fight. Carefully, he folded it up and placed it in the bottom of a drawer, fingers lingering over the worn fabric.

He _had_ to move on. He had done the best thing for Connor. He had given him a family, a good life and from what he saw, Connor was doing well. Going to college. Angel couldn't suppress his smile. His son, college! He had had so many dreams, hopes for his son. College was one of them. And _his_ son was going to college.

Angel glanced at his bed. He should sleep. They started their first day of work at Wolfram and Hart in a couple of days and tomorrow would be spent sorting out the offices downstairs. And that was something he wasn't looking forward to.

They would have to sort out Cordy's young and carefree filing system, pack up her beloved coffee machine and sort out the sketches she had done to illustrate her visions then thrust into a drawer. He wasn't looking forward to going through any of it and he doubted that the others were looking forward to it.

He was about to force himself into bed when he heard a creaking. He froze in the middle of the room and listened. Fred, Wes, Gunn and Lorne had fallen silent. But there was the distinct sound of the main doors opening and the sound of many pairs of feet pattering across the lobby. He grabbed the sword he kept by his bed and slipped silently out of his room, padding down the stairs silently.

He expected a Wolfram and Hart SWAT team, sent to kill them all now they had been lulled into a false sense of security.

He grabbed hold of the rail that ran along the hall and vaulted it, landing in a defensive position in the lobby, sword raised to face the intruders.

It took him a second to realise that they were mostly young girls, a few slightly injured and all of whom glared and raised fists. Five familiar people faced him.

Giles, with a slightly put out expression. He waved him hand at Angel, who glanced at the sword and lowered it. Dawn smiled and glanced back to roll her eyes at the girls behind her. Willow looked tired, but smiled slightly at him. Xander's shoulders were hunched, his hair tousled, smelling of salty tears and misery. Angel was stunned to note the black eye patch.

But then he turned his attention to the final person in the front row. A small blonde, with a gash on her forehead. She offered him a weak smile and his eyes scanned the large group. He ignored his curiosity about Spike's whereabouts and instead focused back on Buffy.

If it weren't for the thoughts that hung constantly on the perimeter of his mind, he might have been in the Bronze, all those years ago, watching her across a crowded dance floor, but not noticing anyone else in the world, because _she_ was smiling at _him_.

"Got any room for a slumber party?" Buffy asked.

And the sword clattered to the floor as he smiled his first proper smile in days and nodded.


	2. Momento Mori

_**Escape**_  
**Chapter Two: Momento Mori **

She found him sitting in the dark in his office, slumped in a chair, fist curled under his chin, photo clutched in one hand. She pulled her jacket tighter around her with one hand and smoothed the pyjama pants that had been lent to her by Fred.

"You know," she said softly. "I think Fred loaned her entire pyjama wardrobe away."

He looked up at Buffy and attempted a smile that dissolved almost as soon as it crossed his face. She took another step into the office.

"Do you want me to go?" she asked. "It's just… I couldn't sleep, I remember you didn't really sleep at this time of night either," there was no response and she slid into the chair and leaned forward over the desk. "Angel? Angel, are you ok?"

"She died," he said hoarsely.

"What?" she asked, frowning.

She saw him reach toward her and click on the lamp. Light flooded over the desk and highlighted his face. He didn't meet her eyes, just gazed down at the photo before pushing it toward her. She glanced at him before picking up the photo and looking at it.

"I _was_ pleased to see you," he went on as she stared at the picture. "And I wanted to talk, but… right now, things aren't great."

"Cordelia…" she breathed, fingers clenching on the photo of Cordy, Angel and Wesley. "She…"

"There was a… thing. She went into a coma. After I got back from Sunnydale, Wes called me and I was there… I didn't want to say anything in front of the guys. Especially Xander, he looked kinda…"

"I know," Buffy nodded, still staring at the picture. She looked up. "I'm so sorry. I know you were close."

He avoided her eyes. He couldn't go there. Not with Buffy, he couldn't even say her name. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't get it. He would always love Buffy, looking at her now, he remembered what those early Sunnydale years had been like. And he hadn't thought anyone else would ever - _could_ ever - take her place. And Cordy hadn't taken her place, far from it. But somewhere along the line, Cordy had created her own place, had snuck into his heart and gave it jumpstart. And now…

"What happened?" he asked her, pushing away from a sire subject. "In Sunnydale," he attempted another smile. "Dawn mentioned something about a crater."

"Yeah," she answered, placing the photo on the desk deliberately. "That's all that's left now. We wiped an entire town off the map and changed the world."

"Changed the world?"

"Oh, yeah. That scythe I had? Well, turns out that it had all this mystical Slayer power and Willow did a spell. Is that the right word? It's kinda small," he smiled a genuine smile then, as she rambled along a Buffy tangent. "Anyway, this spell, changed the whole Slayer thing forever. Now, every Potential Slayer _is_ a Slayer."

"Well, that would explain why all those girls were facing me down earlier."

"They'd just killed a whole bunch of Uber-Vamps. They were pretty much ready for anything."

"So Faith's staying at the hospital with some of the girls?"

"Yeah. She's fine though. She wanted to stick around to make sure Robin was ok. That's Principal Wood, he hired me as counsellor at the new Sunnydale High, which, for the record, didn't last even half as long as the first one did after I started. His mom was a Slayer in the 70s. I think he and Faith have a thing. An _actual_ thing."

"Good for her," Angel said. "It's good that something… good has come out of the this. Buffy? What's wrong?"

"That's only one good thing, Angel," she whispered. "We lost so many of the girls. And friends. Xander's… girlfriend, Anya, she was killed. And the worst of it was that they'd already been through so much. I guess you noticed the eye-patch, right?" he nodded and she nodded too, with a grim smile. "My fault."

"Buffy, don't be -"

"No, Angel. It really was my fault. I didn't move fast enough. There was this freaky preacher guy working for the First. And I was so scared that I couldn't move. And when I did, too late. And when he was in the hospital, I couldn't even face him. And now, I still can't look at him without thinking that all of this is my fault."

"Buffy, you can't be everything to everyone," Angel told her. "Just because you're the Slayer, doesn't mean you don't get scared. I bet Xander doesn't blame you."

"Y'know, I keep telling myself that," she said with a bitter laugh. "But sometimes I think he looks at me like if he'd never met me… Hell, listen to me. I can't even take the blame for something without turning it into a pity party. God, maybe Spike was right when he said I never let anyone close."

"Spike?" Angel repeated, feeling a stab in his stomach that he had felt when Buffy told him about her and Spike. "Uh, where is he? I haven't seen him. Did he go somewhere else?"

"No…" she tailed off, sniffing. "He, uh, he died."

"What?" Angel said, leaning forward. "He…?"

"The amulet didn't do anything and then it started hurting him. Next thing you know, there's this weird light and the whole place is coming down. We all left and he couldn't. It was the amulet that destroyed Sunnydale. And Spike… went down with the ship. He died a Hero, Angel. Whatever you felt about him, whatever anyone felt about him, he could have run away. But he didn't, he stayed to finish it. He died a hero. A champion."

Angel gulped hard.

He was already wondering what the hell he was doing. Watching Cordy fade away, watching the others break down, God that had been hard. But he hadn't done a thing. He stood for an hour after the others had left him and gripped her hand, staring at her.

Because he just couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that Cordy was… gone. Not beautiful, bright, warm Cordelia.

He didn't _want_ to believe it.

If that had been hard, hearing Buffy call Spike a Champion was more than he could bear. Which was probably selfish, because he had had feelings for Cordy. But it was the _way_ Buffy said it, the look on her face _as_ she said it.

The last time he had heard that tone of voice and seen that expression, was when she had eyes only for him.

* * *

"So, that's Buffy, huh?" Fred asked, leaning against the linen closet door.

"Yes," Wes answered. "That would be Miss Summers."

"What do you think happened in Sunnydale? I mean, it must have been major, right? For them all to come here."

"Most apocalypses are, Fred," he replied with a smile. "Though I daresay this was rather larger than usual. I suppose we'll find out the details tomorrow. Buffy's probably telling him right now."

"Do you…" she tailed off, nibbling her lip and shooting a glance at the row of doors.

"They'll be asleep," he assured her gently, desperately hoping she would continue, a pathetic need for her to confide in him welling inside his chest. "What were you going to say?"

"Do you…" she turned her gaze away from the doors and met his eyes. "Do you think people died?"

He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. He remembered Xander, the shuffling way he walked, the complete hopelessness that seemed to weigh on him. Loss etched into every line a young man of his age shouldn't have.

"Yes," he said softly. "Yes, I do think some people died. But I'm sure they died heroes."

"You think that's a consolation?" she asked, head tilting to one side.

"No," he shook his head. "Dying a hero makes absolutely no difference. You might say it does, but it doesn't change the fact that they're gone. So, no, Fred. It's no consolation at all."

"I thought you'd say that," she whispered, fingers inching toward his. "And I'm kinda glad, because if you said it would be easier, I'd have to wish that Cordy died a hero. And it's way too late for that. But it would still hurt like this, wouldn't it? And you know what? It kinda scares me."

She took a deep gulp, letting out a breath that made her whole body shudder. He hesitated, before lacing his fingers through hers and pulling her a little closer as she fought tears.

"I know exactly what you mean," he murmured.


	3. Admissions

_**Escape**_  
**Chapter Three: Admissions**

"I don't want to go into this right now."

"I'm not asking you too," Wesley replied mildly, sitting down uninvited, smiling pleasantly at Angel's frown. "In fact, I've not asked a thing. Yet."

"Yet?" Angel repeated. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Wes shrugged, "I just wondered if the move was postponed."

"What move?" Angel asked.

"To Wolfram and Hart," Wesley reminded him. "And for the record, I'd be fully behind you if you decided to postpone it to just after never."

"You signed a contract with them, Wes," Angel stated. "Nobody forced you."

"I'm quite aware of that. But then… The situation changed, Angel. I no longer believe that we have the power to change Wolfram and Hart. There's too much evil in that place. Too many people who enjoy what they do. You can't change people who don't want to be changed."

"I know," he sighed.

"So… I take it we're putting off the move until this whole thing has been sorted out?" Wes asked.

"I guess so," Angel shrugged. "I want to help out Buffy wherever she needs it."

"Yes," Wes agreed. "Giles filled me in on what happened in Sunnydale. He said that when everyone is feeling more like themselves, they will try to find all the Slayers in LA. Then move on. But they want to get to Cleveland, I think. It's a Hellmouth and I suppose they'll want to settle so that Dawn can go to school there. I suppose she told you that people died. Some of the girls, a few who were friends of Dawn. Anya died."

"I know."

"Do you remember her?" Wes asked. "I do. She went to the Prom with Xander. We had a conversation over the dip. Quite a lively young woman," he looked down, quietly sad. He cleared his throat a little and met Angel's eyes. "And Spike died. Saving the world, apparently."

"Yeah," Angel replied gruffly. "Buffy told me."

"Things must have been quite complicated between them," Wes mused. "To have your worst enemy become your closest ally. I really -"

"Wesley," Angel snapped. "What are you trying to say here? What point are you trying to make? 'Cause I'm getting sick of hearing about the end of the world. And how Spike stopped the end of the world. It's old."

Wes nodded. Well, there went the subtle approach. But he wasn't sure if he wanted to go on. Buffy was a sore subject, a subject that could chase Angel halfway around the world to escape the memory. But Wesley never believed Angel had ever gotton away from the memory of Buffy, of their past, of her death. Not that Angel had ever said anything, he opened up far more to Cordelia, he always had. But there had been little hints, tiny gestures, looks that Wesley picked up on. But right now, Angel was far more easy to read.

Wes took a long, deep breath.

"I'm not…" he sighed. "I'm not Cordelia. But I am your friend. I'd like to think you can talk to me. You've been… odd, of late. Even before Cordy… I just hope Buffy's presence doesn't make things worse. Can I… ask you something?"

"Sure," Angel answered hoarsely.

"Do you still love her?" Wesley asked in a soft voice.

Angel's breathing could be heard in the silence of the office. He attempted a smile at Wesley.

"As much as the first time I ever saw her," he confided.

* * *

"Hey, Buffy," Willow said, shutting the door behind her. "Why are you hiding away up here? I've got one very good reason to stay in my room, but as you don't have a sexy girlfriend with a kinky little tongue piercing -" Willow stopped at Buffy's expression. "Y'know, I really didn't mean to say all that. Babble-mouth strikes again."

"I'm glad you're happy, Will," Buffy said and tapped the bed beside her. "Sit down."

"Where's Dawnie?" Willow asked, taking up the invitation and seating herself cross-legged opposite Buffy.

"Hanging out with Andrew in the lobby. I think he's trying to prove to Lorne that he can sing."

"Oh. Is that what that noise is?" Willow wrinkled her nose. "You think he's trying to serenade Dawn?"

"Willow, that's a complication I don't even want to consider," Buffy groaned.

"You make it sound like you've got enough complications already," Willow said. "Which, when you think about it, isn't true. You don't have to worry about being the one girl in all the world anymore, you don't need to worry about the Hellmouth and you're stuck here with Angel and that's not good, is it?"

"Ding, ding. You've hit the nail on the head," Buffy said, slumping over and running her hand over her hair.

"So why did you want to come here after everything that happened in Sunnydale?" Willow asked, reaching out to squeeze Buffy's knee.

"Because… Because everyone expected me to have an answer. To know where to go. And I couldn't think of anywhere else… The first thing I thought of… was Angel."

"But that's natural," Willow replied quickly. "After all you meant to each other, after everything you've been through together. He came to Sunnydale to try and help you. He gave you that book with the spell I did in it and that amulet that… Well, it's only natural that you'd think of him. And you, uh, you still care about him, don't you?"

Buffy shot Willow a rueful smile.

"You see right through me," she teased.

Willow chuckled in response, before she grew serious again.

"Things have changed now, Buffy," she pointed out in a low voice. "You've not got the responsibility of being the Slayer anymore. You two could… If you wanted…"

Buffy's eyes widened in horror as she gazed up at her friend. God knows she hadn't thought of it. She had thought of it last night as she entered the office. When she had seen him that night in the office, she had seen herself in him. More than anything, she had wanted to sink into his arms and kiss him. Whisper that everything would be fine and hear him say the same thing. But then she had noted the photograph in his grasp and it brought her shuddering to her senses.

He never fell into the next available relationship that came along as she had done with Riley. But she did love Riley; she just didn't have the same passion Angel had shown her, a passion she had developed a taste for. But she hadn't mourned the end of the relationship; she only cried the once after he left. Just the once. But Angel had been alone for almost four years. She didn't hear anything about a new relationship. He had spent four years without her. And the only conclusion Buffy could draw from that fact was that Angel had moved on from her. But she hadn't moved on from him, not entirely.

"It's not that simple, Willow," Buffy sighed.

"Why not?" Willow asked. "Are you worried about Xander? About how the rest of us will react? Because if you are, you shouldn't be. It's your life and it's not any -"

"It's not that," Buffy interrupted.

"Oh," Willow frowned. "What is it then?"

"I…" she tailed off. She didn't want to tell Willow that she suspected that while Angel still loved her, he didn't want her anymore. She knew that if she said that, Willow would disregard it, make her believe that Angel did want her. And that would mean Buffy would get her heart broken all over again when he said he couldn't go through that again. So she sighed and took a deep breath as she said, "I told Spike I loved him."

"What?" Willow gasped, astonished.

"Before he died, I told Spike I loved him. And I meant it."

Outside her half open door, Angel rammed his nails into his palms in a bid to stop his eyes stinging.


	4. Surprise

_**Escape**_  
**Chapter Four: Surprise**

Buffy cast Angel a sidelong glance, ever since that morning, he had been avoiding her, intoning one-word answers and shooting her dark looks every so often. It was starting to grate on her nerves and her nerves had had enough grating over the past couple of months to last her a lifetime.

"Hey, B," Faith said, nudging Buffy's elbow. "Wanna fill me in?"

"On what?" Buffy asked, turning to look at Faith, who yawned. "Hey, shouldn't you be in bed? Robin told me you haven't been sleeping much at the hospital."

"Well, I couldn't, could I? Not with him and the girls needing protection," but Faith's eyes left hers and unless Buffy was very much mistaken, Faith almost blushed.

"Uh-huh," Buffy nodded slowly. "Sure it wasn't because you wanted to keep an eye on your honey?"

"I don't have a honey," Faith replied with a shrug.

"And that's why you held a certain hot young Principal's hand all the way from Sunnydale to LA," Buffy said, shooting Faith a wry glance before studying her nails.

"Oh, don't start that game with me, Buffy," Faith warned. "Otherwise, I'll have to break out the big guns," Buffy frowned at that, not knowing what Faith meant. Faith's mouth quirked in a victorious smile. "What's wrong with you and Angel? Giles said you were getting along great when he picked us up from the hospital this morning, now you're acting like the mortal enemies you oughta be."

"Faith, you really don't know what you're talking about," Buffy responded softly.

"So now I know I've hit a sore spot. You'd only say I don't know what I'm talking about when I do," Faith said. "But I'm guessing you don't want any advice from me."

"For once, you're right," Buffy snapped.

Faith shrugged and stood up, moving to leave the office they had been occupying when Buffy grabbed her arm.

"Look," Buffy said, trying to glare, but not quite accomplishing it. "I don't care what you think or what you think I should do about what you think is going on, but I'm… curious, ok?" she lowered her eyes and fought her blush furiously.

"B, you're the one that's always saying people should talk, it's not always about the fighting. Personally, I think you should hit him 'til he tells you what's wrong. But, I guess you should talk to him. Ask him what's going on. Trust me, he'll crack under the pressure. Especially from you."

And with that, Faith pulled her arm from Buffy's hand and left the room. Buffy drew in a deep breath and marched out of the office, across the lobby and up the stairs to Angel's room.

* * *

Faith opened the door and it creaked. She hissed a curse and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Faith."

She heard the voice and knew by its gruffness that he had been asleep. She watched a vague shadow on the bed struggle into an upright position and she hurried toward him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Thought the doc told you to rest?" she asked.

"Who closed the curtains?" he asked, ignoring her question and continuing to ease himself upright.

"I did," she answered. "Want me to open 'em?"

He nodded and she turned away from him, tugging the dusty curtains open, allowing sunlight to flood the room. When she turned back to him, she swallowed hard. He was topless and his chest was exposed above the sheets. She remembered the feel of that chest beneath her lips and fingertips and she remembered the feel of those arms around her. She forced down the wish that she could feel it again and adopted a cocky stance with her hands on her hips.

"You feeling better?" she asked. "'Cause, y'know, you promised me you'd surprise me."

"Yeah, y'know, I'm actually starting to regret that," he laughed gently, wincing as he did so.

"You are?" she wondered why that made her stomach lurch, it wasn't like she had everything staked on this one guy. She never did that with any guy.

What made this guy so special?

"Well, yeah," he shrugged. "You got any idea how hard it is to come up with an idea that would surprise you? You've probably seen everything."

She allowed her arms to drop from her hips and shrugged with a smile.

"Not as much as you might think," she replied. "I've never seen Vegas, for one thing..."

* * *

The door swung open and Angel spared a second to pity the hinges that were already creaking in their old age. He looked up from the book he was reading to see Buffy glaring at him from the doorway, hands on her hips. Uh-oh. That was never a good sign. He closed the book slowly and was about to stand, to go toward her and reach out to her, ask her what was wrong.

_"Before he died, I told Spike I loved him. And I meant it."_

As he remembered her words, he stayed resolutely in his seat. He wasn't going to comfort her because she lost Spike. Of all people. Of all _vampires!_

"Ok, so are you going to tell me what's wrong?" she asked.

"There's nothing wrong," he asked.

"Don't give me that, Angel, I know you. What changed between this morning and this afternoon?"

"I've been busy. I've got Wesley on my back about this Wolfram and Hart thing. Sorry if I didn't have a chance to let you in on all that."

"You know that's not what I mean," Buffy sighed and she came in further into the room and closed the door behind her. "Why are you acting weird with me?"

"I'm not," he replied stubbornly.

He had obviously been away from her too long. He had forgotten how much him not talking to her wound her up. If there was one thing she had always disliked about their relationship, it was his tendency to keep things to himself rather than confide in her that annoyed her the most. So, lying to her when they both knew she knew there was something wrong was a bad move.

"Yes, you are," she spaced out the words deliberately. "I don't want to fight with you, but I want you to talk to me. So what's _wrong_, Angel?"

There was a note of pleading in her voice and he stood up to face her.

"It's not you," he told her. "It's nothing you've done. It's me."

"Well, you're up to date," she scoffed. "I guess you've had plenty of time to catch up on stupid lines like that."

"Just like you had time to fall in love with a murderer!" he retorted sharply.

She blinked, then he saw understanding fill her eyes, followed quickly by horror.

"Angel -" she said softly, reaching for his arm.

"No, Buffy," he snapped, pulling back from her. "I don't want to talk about it. I'm not big into discussing my feelings. And I'm really not into talking about that. So just leave it alone."

"I won't," she answered. "I won't leave it like this," but he was walking away from her and she went after him. "Will you just let me _explain_?"

"I don't want you to!" he said in frustration. "I heard it all before, remember? I remember every word. You're cookie dough, you're not baked yet, Spike's in your heart. I remember all of that. But I just thought you cared. I never even imagined that you could_ love_ him. And what does that mean? Does that mean if he hadn't died, you'd have been cookies or whatever the hell you wanna call it, with him? Huh? Was he your oven? Did I even figure into -"

But he stopped as she grabbed his upper arms and gave him a hard shake to shut him up. Her fingers dug into his arms and he opened his mouth to tell her she was kind of hurting him when her grip relaxed. The hard stare she had fixed him with softened and one hand ran up his arm to his neck. And then she tiptoed and pulled him down into a kiss. He sank into her arms, pulling her closer.

And as he kissed her, he realised how much he had missed her all these years. When they kissed in Sunnydale, his mind was still half on what he had just done so his son could have a life, Cordelia's condition and the impending doom about to befall Sunnydale. But now, with nothing to worry him apart from the low ache of loss he felt ever since he gave his son up, he could allow himself to realise that he never felt more alive than he did when she kissed him.

And it wasn't right.

He didn't know why she kissing him. But he did know that - however odd the cookie analogy - she was right. She wasn't done baking yet. And he wasn't willing to allow whatever would happen next happen until she was complete on her own, only wanting him because she loved him.

He pulled away and looked down at her. Her eyes were closed and a slight smile curved her lips that were full and dark red from kissing. She opened her eyes when she realised he was staring at her and felt her heart sink. _Oh, no…_

"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I can't… We can't… Not now."

And he brushed passed her, grabbing his jacket that hung over the back of a chair and practically ran from the room.

Leaving Buffy standing in the middle of the room, her hands shaking.

* * *

She had tracked him to a neat little street that reminded her of Revello Drive. She really should have just let him go, let him clear his head. But then there would be the awkwardness that she had wanted to clear up when she had gone to him earlier. And that had ended_ so_ well.

She still didn't know why she kissed him. Maybe it was because she didn't want to wait until she was complete. Maybe because she just _wanted_ him because she remembered how when she was a teenager everything had seemed right when he was with her.

She cast her gaze restlessly around her surroundings. Why the hell would he come here? Did he buy himself a house so that he could escape from the others for a while? Somehow a house in the suburbs didn't seem quite Angel's style. She glanced to one side and paused.

There was a tree in the front yard of one house. And unless she was very much mistaken, the big black lump in the tree, was _not_ a bird's nest.

She frowned, wondering at Angel's sudden urge to bond with nature as she crossed the street and crept across the yard. She peered up at him and shrugged. Well, she figured that he couldn't yell at her if they were up a tree in the middle of someone's front yard. So she grabbed hold of the trunk and placed her foot onto a low branch, hauling herself up. She climbed the tree quickly and nimbly, drawing level with Angel in a matter of seconds. He hadn't heard her and didn't notice her until it was too late and she had climbed up beside him.

He stared at her in horror and glanced to the side. She followed his gaze through the thick foliage that obscured them both from view, into a lit window and watched as a teenage boy paced his room, talking on the phone and laughing.

She frowned at Angel.

"Want to tell me what the hell's going on?" she asked in a low voice.


	5. Spill

_**Escape**_  
**Chapter Five: Spill  
**

"What the hell is going on?" Buffy repeated as Angel stared at her; mouth opening then snapping shut again several times.

"Buffy," he finally managed. "What are you doing here?"

"I think I should ask you the same question," Buffy replied coolly, glancing through the foliage at the boy as he hung up the phone and left the room.

"Forget it," Angel said, looking through the window and sighing.

He shifted a little and began to climb down the tree. Buffy watched him go and sighed, jumping down from the tree, landing in front of Angel.

"Who is he?" Buffy asked. "Because something tells me you weren't just watching him because you couldn't stretch to a movie ticket. So are you gonna spill it?"

"No," he answered shortly, hunching over as he walked deliberately around her and strode across the lawn and up the road.

"That's it?" she asked, running after him and grabbing his arm. He ignored it and carried on walking, dragging her after him. "Is that all you're gonna say?"

"Yeah," he answered, stopping in front of his car. "Now, you want a lift back to the hotel or do you wanna walk?"

Buffy glared at him and climbed into the passenger side. She thought for a moment that he was just going to leave her there and go off somewhere else. She heard Angel slump onto the roof of the car, heave a sigh and the slowly pull back and open the door. He slid in and stared ahead of him for a moment.

"Look, Buffy… I don't want you to tell anyone about this," he said finally.

"The thought never even crossed my mind," she replied and remained silent until he started the car and pulled away from the street. Then she went on, "But I would like to know who he was and why you were watching him."

"It was no one," he snapped. "I was just driving and I stopped here and thought a tree was as good a place as any to have a think. He only came into his room a few minutes before you came. He's nobody."

He gulped hard, as though the words "He's nobody," stuck in his throat. She watched suspiciously as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel and his jaw set.

"You're holding back, Angel," she said softly. "Just let me in."

"There's nothing to tell, Buffy," he answered shortly.

"Fine," she snapped. "Then you tell me why you ran out on me after I kissed you."

"Because it was wrong!" he answered sharply.

"You didn't think it was wrong at the time," she whispered in a hurt voice.

"Yeah? Well, I don't really think all that great when you're kissing me," he said with a shrug. "I just think that… You and I… Aren't exactly cookies and cream yet."

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"You came up with the cookie analogy, not me," he reminded her and there was forced merriment in his tone.

"When I said I wasn't ready for something big, I didn't mean I wasn't ready for _anything_."

"I can't have a fling," he stated quickly. "Not with you."

She didn't answer, only sank back into her chair and stared out through the window, watching the bright lights of bars and clubs fly past. She looked up when they turned a corner and were approaching the hotel.

"Who was that boy, Angel?" she asked softly.

"Just someone I used to know," he replied, a harsh edge to his voice as he stopped the car with a screech and opened the door.

Buffy watched as he got out of the car and slammed the door, walking around the car to open her door for her. She unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out, straightening up to meet his eyes.

He stared into her eyes for a minute, seeing the unvoiced question there and lowered his gaze, slamming the car door shut and locking it.

"Just someone I used to know, Buffy," he repeated in a hoarse whisper, turning away from her to go into the hotel.

* * *

"There you are. Where have you been?" Wesley asked, looking up from a notepad when Angel came into the office.

"Out," Angel replied shortly, sitting down.

Wesley breathed in slowly, assessing Angel's mood. He glanced down at his notebook and then, in a calm, level voice continued.

"Well, you're obviously not in a good mood, so I'll keep this brief: are you still unsure about our new connection to Wolfram and Hart?"

Grateful for a change of subject, though smarting from the connection between Wolfram and Hart and Connor, Angel nodded.

"Yeah. I think we made a mistake. I think we believed we could do some good with that place, but now I don't think we can. There are too many people there for us to keep an eye on and too many of them like being evil."

"Exactly the way I feel. I also took the liberty of asking Fred, Gunn and Lorne about it. They all feel the same. It seems they're trying to pretend it's not happening, hoping it'll go away. But it won't, so I propose we do something about it."

"Like what?" Angel asked, not looking at him, only really half listening to him.

"Well, I had an idea - it's a long shot, mind - but I thought there may be some sort of loophole in one of our contracts. I've got the others permission to look at theirs, but I was wondering if I could see yours?"

"Yeah, sure," Angel nodded, still staring across the room at the wall.

"Thank you. I'll go now, see if I can get anything done," Wes stood up, gathering his papers and legal textbooks together and going toward the desk. He frowned at Angel, slumped glowering in his chair. "I'll, uh, I'll let you know if I find anything."

* * *

Dawn and Andrew bounded along the hall toward Buffy and she plastered on a fake grin to greet them.

"Hey," she said. "What's up? You two look happy."

"Principal Wood and Faith just left!" Dawn said, bobbing up and down.

"What?" Buffy asked. "Why? Where are they going?"

"Principal Wood said something about a surprise," Andrew said. "So he's taken her to Las Vegas. She said she's never been there before. Don't you think that's the most romantic thing?"

"Huh? Robin took Faith to Las Vegas? And wait, _romantic_? Are they, what, dating? I never actually _believed _that."

"Duh," Andrew said, rolling her eyes.

"Don't worry, Buffy," Dawn said gently, patting her hand. "It's only natural that you wouldn't notice the obvious chemistry between Faith and Principal Wood what with being around Angel and all."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Buffy said, attempting to sound jokingly aloof, but the words came out cold. Andrew and Dawn exchanged a glance and Buffy shrugged to get the tension out of her shoulders. "Um, have you seen Giles?"

"Uh, yeah," Dawn nodded. "He said to tell you that he's gone away for a few days. Willow and Kennedy went with him."

"Gone where? Why?" Buffy asked, voice sounded shrill even to her own ears.

"Well, there were a few Potentials who wanted to go home," Andrew explained. "So he's taken the school bus to drive some home and the rest he's dropping off at the airport. He should be back tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh," Buffy nodded, forcing a smile and squeezing her sister's arm. "That's… great. I'll, um, see you later. I've got to, uh, go."

Dawn and Andrew exchanged another glance as Buffy eased past them and resisted the urge to run to her room. Everyone was going. Giles and Willow had gone away so she couldn't talk to them about any of this. She didn't want to burden Dawn with this, not when she looked so cheerful and happy hanging out in the hotel or going out with Andrew.

God, now what was she going to do? Who was she going to talk to about this?

She stopped sharply outside one of the doors and slowly turned toward it. She knocked quickly before she could stop herself. It opened slowly and a young man, looking older than his years, adjusted an eye patch and attempted a smile.

"Xander, hey," Buffy grinned. "Long time no - see. Uh, can we talk?"

A tiny, genuine smile appeared on his face and he nodded, pushing the door open a little more.

* * *

Wes pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes and peered at one of the newly bought legal textbooks. He sighed and wondered about calling the bubbly little secretary who had directed him into this office and asking for a coffee.

His finger hovered over the button on the intercom, wondering if it would be evil if he asked an evil secretary for a coffee.

"Don't do it."

He jumped, hand snapping away from the intercom as he grabbed his glasses and pushed them on, peering at the person lounging in the doorway of the office.

A person that made his heart beat faster and his mouth go just a little dry.

"Hello, Fred," he said, trying to sound normal and wondering if he pulled it off. "Don't do what?"

"Press the button," she answered, jutting her chin in the direction of the intercom. "Not when you look that terrified at the prospect."

"I was just curious as to whether asking the secretary for a coffee would be evil," he admitted.

She laughed a little and dropped a shoulder bag to the floor as she sat down. She pulled a couple of books out of the bag and set them on the table.

"What's all this?" he asked.

"Well, you didn't think I'd let you go over those contracts alone, did you?" she replied, retrieving her glasses and opening a book. "What are you going to do when you get bored if you've got no company?"

He chuckled and lowered his gaze to the copy of Lorne's contract.

"Hey, Wes?"

"Yes?"

She smiled mischievously and slanted her gaze to the intercom at his right hand.

"Wanna see if ordering a coffee makes ya evil?"


	6. Googly Eyes

_**Escape**_  
**Chapter Six: Googly Eyes  
**

"Sorry about the mess," Xander said, not looking at Buffy as he rubbed his neck and gazed across the wreckage of his room.

"Looks homey," she smiled, sitting on the bed, shifting for a second to pull a pizza box from underneath her.

"Hey, I had good news," he said, turning around to face her, a fake smile on his face. "I went for a check up yesterday and apparently in a few months, I get to have a fake eye."

"Really? So… no more eye patch?"

"Nope. But I think I might miss looking like I'm in Halloween costume everyday, I might have set a trend. But it'd be a conversation starter, right?" for some reason, the pitch of his voice climbed suddenly until he sucked in a breath and let it out with a shudder. "Sorry. I'm just…"

"I understand," she said softly, taking his hand. "I'm so sorry."

"S'not your fault," he mumbled, sniffing hard, forcing himself _not to cry._ "So, uh, you miss Spike?"

"What?" she asked, jumping a little.

"Well, he died. Again. You had feelings for him though. Might be missing an eye, but I've still got my good one," he turned to face her, a determined and happy to help expression on his face. "Or is this Angel?"

"Am I that transparent?" she asked, sighing a little. "Even Willow worked it out and she's awash in the land of Kennedy kissage."

"So what's wrong? Or is this just your general seeing the man you love again-ness?"

"You know what, it's not important," Buffy sighed. "It's way too familiar to be that big a deal," she quickly changed the subject with, "Dawn told me Willow called from the airport. They'll be back sooner than they thought. Will said that most of the girls wanted to go to the airport and the rest only lived a few hours away. They're gonna see the last few girls onto their planes and then we don't have to worry about Slayers or finding them until after our break."

"Heard from Faith or the strangely good looking Principal?"

Buffy gave him an odd look, looking pointedly around the room he had barely left since they arrived in LA.

"Fred mentioned it," he said, offering her a weak grin. "She came up to ask if I was hungry. She was telling me everything that was going on and I felt like Cordy, listening to gossip back in High School," he smiled a sad smile and Buffy lowered her head.

"You heard about Cordelia then?" she asked softly.

"Yeah. Wesley told me. That's gotta be a record, right? Two girls I loved dying within hours of each other?"

"Xander…"

"Hey, have you seen Wesley?" Xander cut in, desperately forcing the pitch of his voice down as he changed the subject. "I know Willow said he was different, but wow. I want what he's having."

He chuckled, sounding slightly hysterical as he paced the room.

"Hey," Buffy stood up and stepped in front of them, grabbing hold of him to force him to a halt. She stared up at one of her closest friends for a moment before wrapping her arms around him and hugging him. He stood, unmoving for a few seconds, before reaching around her, lowered his head onto her shoulder and hugged her back.

"I was thinking about ordering a pizza," she said in a low voice. "With ice cream."

"Banoffee?"

"Of course."

* * *

Angel was drumming a pen on the side of the desk, glowering into the distance. Everyone had been avoiding him, even the over eager spiky haired blonde boy who hung around with Dawn, who seemed to want to get to know absolutely everyone.

"How ya doin', Angel-cakes? Still moping?" Lorne sauntered into the office and pulled off his sunglasses as he sat down. "Y'know, if you weren't immortal and eternally young, with all your frowning, you'd need a truck load of Botox to smooth out that heroic brow of yours. Boy, am I ever jealous."

Angel shifted in his seat, taking in the sunglasses and melancholy expression on Lorne's face.

"What's with the sunglasses?" he asked after a moment.

"Oh, it's my way of living what will never be," Lorne sighed dramatically. He rolled his eyes at Angel's clueless expression. "They were offering me the entire entertainment department! Sure, it was an evil entertainment department, but it meant I could wear sunglasses inside and not look like a complete wannabe! But, as Wes said, evil place, evil talent. I can't work there, you never know if they're the ones that sent Elvis off with the aliens."

"You didn't have to give it up, Lorne," Angel said. "Wes is just having a hard time accepting his spur of the moment decision."

"Well, that makes four of us," Lorne shrugged. "Four of us who are willing to give up everything that was offered to us because the hand that feeds us might just be the one that bites us on the ass as well. What about you? You regretting it?"

"Yes," Angel answered. "And no. I got stuff out of that contract that I'm grateful for. But the thought of working with Wolfram and Hart doesn't exactly thrill me. I don't do entourages."

"Well, if you're willing to give up the limousines and the plush apartment, then I guess I can cope. We should be out of it soon enough. Wes and Fred are working on it as we speak."

"Yeah, I know. Wes asked if he could look at my contract -" he stopped and it seemed to Lorne that Angel did the impossible for a vampire as it seemed he paled all the way to the roots of his overly gelled hair.

"Something wrong?"

Angel leapt up from his seat, grabbed his duster and raced out of the office, leaving Lorne to sigh once more and slide his sunglasses back on.

"Woah."

Angel screeched to a halt as Buffy stepped into his path.

"Buffy, I need to go somewhere important."

"Yeah? Well, I need to say something important. How do you know that boy?"

"I don't have time for this!" Angel answered, starting forward, but the Slayer placed a steady hand on his chest to stop him.

"How?" she pressed. "This is important."

"Yes, it is important. But it's nothing to do with you!"

"It is when it's got you this worked up!" her voice rose angrily and she glanced around the empty lobby before lowering her voice to an urgent whisper. "How do you know him? Who _is_ he?"

"You really wanna know?"

"That's why I'm asking."

"Ok," Angel also glanced around, his voice a low hiss through clenched teeth. "He was my son. He _is_ my son."

Buffy blinked and took a step back. Angel took advantage of her shock to walk past her, duster snapping as he thrust both doors into the hotel open and strode out into the dark.

Buffy stood, shaking slightly before lowering herself onto the steps leading down into the lobby. The doors swung open behind her again and Buffy turned quickly, hoping Angel had come to explain this incomprehensible occurrence.

But it was only Giles, Willow and Kennedy who she had forgotton were on their way back.

"Was that Angel I just saw leave?" Giles asked Buffy. "Where's he off to?"

* * *

Fred giggled, pushing her mug away from her. Wesley smiled at her, then done at the busy amount of paperwork before him. A pile of paper covered in the scrawlings of noughts and crosses, hangman and cartoons of everyone from Angel to Andrew.

"I think you've had too much caffeine," Wesley said. "And I think we've done far too little work for this many hours."

"Oh, I don't think Angel will notice," Fred replied, waving a hand, bending over a new doodle of Angel in lurve. "He's too busy making googly eyes at Buffy."

"That wouldn't be Buffy Summers, would it? Slayer extraordinaire?"

Wes looked up and Fred abandoned her drawing to turn in her seat to see an elegantly attired woman lounging in the doorway. The woman's gaze skimmed over Fred and settled contentedly on Wes as she ran her fingers over a silk scarf around her work.

"Can I help you?" Wesley asked politely.

An odd look flashed across the woman's face and her expression hardened a little as she sauntered into the office.

"Lilah Morgan, ex-lawyer of Wolfram and Hart, but I still work for them."

"That doesn't matter any sense," Fred said, wrinkling her nose and smiling, caffiene still buzzing in her veins.

"It does if I'm dead," Lilah replied and Fred recoiled at her tone, her caffeine haze clearing rapidly. There was something about this woman that Fred found familiar. Familiar in a bad, bad way.

"What do you want?" Wes asked, voice harder this time and it successfully caught Lilah's attention.

She leaned across the desk, reaching out to run a finger along his forearm that rested on a notepad. It was a flirtatious gesture that made Wes wonder why she was doing this when he only vaguely remembered meeting her a couple of time a couple of years ago. But though he didn't respond, he didn't push her away.

"I've got a message for you," she said in a low husky voice.

"I'm, uh, gonna see where the PA got to with those cookies," Fred said nervously, getting up and backing away from Lilah and Wesley who barely heard her.

"And what's this message, Ms Morgan?" Wes asked, grabbing her wrist and yanking her hand away from his arm, suddenly tired of whatever game she was playing.

"Not to bother," she said, smiling at the tight grip on her wrist. "You'll never find a get-out clause. Those contracts are water-tight, air-tight, and Wesley Wyndham-Pryce and Winifred Burkle-tight."

"We'll see," he answered, lowering his head over his work. When she didn't move, he looked up. "Was there something else?"

She smirked, before running a finger along his jawbone, closing her fingers around his chin and pulling him close to kiss him. He was startled and started to pull away, but she slipped her fingers into his hair to prevent his escape.

And Fred watched frozen from the doorway.


	7. Homecoming

_**Escape**_  
**Chapter Seven: Homecoming  
**

Fred continued to stare, brown eyes huge as Wesley struggled free from Lilah's grip. He stared at Lilah, something familiar stirring in his stomach. Something like rage, frustration and pure, unadulterated lust. His gaze was suddenly caught by Fred, the cookies rattling on the plate as she shook and stared at them. The heat of anger and want melted suddenly, to be replaced by the feeling of a punch to his stomach.

"Fred…" he started helplessly before glancing back at Lilah Morgan. "Get out. Get out, _now_."

She seemed unaffected by his tone, almost as though she had expected it. She stood up slowly, smoothing her skirt slowly and seductively.

"See ya, Wes," she called over her shoulder as she left. She paused in the doorway and glanced down her nose at Fred. "Eat all your vegetables," she told her in a low voice. "Pray real hard. Might help with those hips of yours."

Then, with a dry chuckle, Lilah swept past Fred and out into the corridor.

"Fred -" Wesley started, standing up and walking around the desk.

"No, it's ok. I mean, she's very attractive. Dead, but y'know, pretty. Uh, cookie?"

"Fred, I didn't -" he reached to touch her shoulder.

"It's none of my business, Wesley," she said, trying to smile before bowing her head over the cookies.

"Yes, it is! Will you please listen to me? She kissed me -"

"You kissed her back."

"When someone has nails like claws embedded in your head, you've got very little room for manoeuvre. Really, I didn't want to kiss her. And I really didn't want you to see it."

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters, Fred."

She looked up from rearranging the cookies on the plate and met his eyes with a frown.

"Why?"

"Well, I -"

"Wesley!"

Wesley jumped, the hand that hovered uncertainly between himself and Fred snapping back to his side as Angel barrelled into the room.

"Angel?" Fred asked. "What's wrong?"

"Have you looked at my contract?" he demanded.

"Uh, no, we haven't had the ch -"

"Good," Angel crossed the room in three easy strides, stepping right between them without even noticing the tension in the room. He passed the plate absent mindedly to Fred before sifting through the papers on the desks.

Fred averted her eyes when Angel paused over the various caricatures of himself, raising his eyes briefly before grabbing the contract from beneath the mess. He held it to his chest and attempted a casual stance.

"You'll be able to find a get-out clause using just yours and the others, right?" he asked Wesley.

"I think so, if Fred will help me. She's proven invaluable today."

When Fred only blinked at Wesley, Angel glanced at her.

"I'll help," she mumbled, relenting under Angel's gaze.

"So, why the sudden change of heart?" Wes asked Angel.

"Nothing. It's just… The longest of all of them and there's nothing in there that isn't in the others. And, well, there's some… personal stuff too."

"You should have said when I asked you," Wes replied.

Angel was surprised by how easily Wes swallowed that garbled, ridiculous excuse. Then he followed where Wes was looking and saw Fred munching a cookie, carefully avoiding Wes's stare.

In a brave, but sorry attempt to lighten the atmosphere, Angel picked up the notepad and frowned at it. The doodle in the middle depicted a square-ish person with a goofy grin, huge fangs and heart shaped eyes. Hands were fisted at his heart, tiny wings protruding from his back as the caricature stared at a twig like feminine figure with wreaths of gently curling hair and a huge stake in one hand.

"Buffy?" he asked, looking at Fred who looked suitably embarrassed. He turned a little to look at Wesley, voice rising slightly in high pitched accusation. "_Me_?"

Wes blushed slightly and coughed.

"Well, personally, I think it's a step up from a five second re-enactment ending in _Bite me_," he commented.

Angel shrugged, put the notepad down and started to leave the room; he could feel the tension between Fred and Wes and shook his head as he turned down the corridor toward the elevator.

It wasn't until he reached the underground car park that he ran into anyone.

Buffy was leaning against his car, arms folded. He hugged the contract slightly tighter to his chest and hesitated briefly before carrying on toward her and stopping.

She looked up, offering him a grim smile.

"I think we need to talk."

* * *

They sat in silence, the quiet weighing heavy in the dull light of the car park. Buffy hadn't spoken for a full minute, only stared out of the window. Angel was starting to wonder if she would ever blink.

She was barely able to comprehend the news. She had known Darla was back, Angel had told her when they spoke all night after her resurrection. But he never told her he slept with Darla, or that sleeping with her was what put him back on his path. She was also struggling to comprehend the fact that two vampires had a child and Darla had given her life for her child's. Angel's rigid defence of the woman he had once staked also stunned her. She thought Angel_ hated_ Darla, but when Buffy asked why Darla would kill herself for her child, Angel had leapt to her defence.

Buffy tried to remember if she had seen anything between Wesley and Angel that would have given away the truth of what happened. But she hadn't.

And, though she had seen the sorrow in the eyes of Angel's friends because of Cordy's death, she was almost positive they had no idea what had really happened.

"So," she said after a moment. "What do they think happened? How do you think you got Wolfram and Hart?"

"Fred mentioned something about Jasmine," Angel replied. "So I know they remember that. As far as I know, they think Cordy's coma came about because she was the one to stop her. They think we got Wolfram and Hart because we ended world peace. Which is true, they just don't know the whole story of how it really ended. Or started."

"And what about Connor? Don't they remember anything about him?"

"No," Angel said quickly. "And you can't say anything. Please, Buffy. You can't. Everything is working out now, I can't risk them finding out."

"You took away their memories, Angel!" Buffy cried. "Things they deserve to remember. What about Wesley? You just wiped all that stuff away. And what about this Lilah woman you say was so important to him? The woman you killed? Does he even remember her?"

"No," Angel lowered his head. "He doesn't. As far as he remembers, he never left the team. If there had been another way… I would have taken it. But there wasn't. C'mon, Buffy, you're the woman that gave up your _life_ for your sister."

"Yeah, because it was my life to give up! But what gives you the right to give up what doesn't belong to you?"

"I wanted to save my son!" Angel answered harshly. "Don't you think if I could have done more, I would have? Don't you think I wanted him with me? All I've got now is rare glances through a window. And I don't even have those for very long because he's going to college now. But the only way I can deal with that is by knowing that he's happy. He's going to college; he's got a girlfriend, a sister. He's never seen a monster in his life. He is still my son, Buffy. He'll always be my son. And if I had to sacrifice a few bad memories to make sure his life was made better, I don't care."

"Hey," Buffy touched his arm, suddenly aware of the fact Angel was starting to fall apart. "It's ok. I don't agree with what you did, but I understand why you did it."

"You do?"

"Yeah," she nodded, attempting a smile. "But I don't agree. I think what you did was wrong. But I get why you needed to do it."

There was a silence until Angel glanced down at Buffy's hand still clenched around his arm. She followed his gaze and he heard her pull in a deep, rattling breath before lifting her head to look at him. Slowly, with the leather seats creaking as she did so, she leaned forward and kissed him.

"Buffy," Angel mumbled against her lips.

"Sssh," she hushed, pulling away only for a second. "Please."

She moved in closer, pulling him into a more fierce kiss. She was aware of what happened last time, of him pulling away and saying no. She knew she was risking more pain and more awkwardness, but with him pressed so close, she couldn't give a damn.

When he pulled away, Buffy saw in his eyes the sudden uneasiness and he started to pull away when Buffy snatched hold of his hand and fixed him with a determined look.

"I may not be cookies yet," she said. "But cookie dough needs an oven," Angel opened his mouth to reply when he frowned. "Ok. So that was a bad way of putting it," Buffy relented. "But the truth is I love you and I've always loved you. You know that."

"Yeah," he nodded. "And I feel the same way. And I always kinda hoped… One day in the future… You'd want to be with me."

"But?" Buffy asked, fingers tightening in his as she nibbled her lip.

"But are you sure? I left you so you'd have a normal life -"

"And I've got one," she cut in quickly. "Now there's thousands of Slayers out there. I'm not the one girl in all the world anymore. That's as normal as I'm ever gonna get."

"I know, but you're not baked yet."

"I_ want_ you, Angel."

"And I want you. But maybe we shouldn't dive in. Maybe we should take things slowly."

"I can do slow," she replied with a smile, leaning in again to kiss him.

* * *

Wesley usually enjoyed silence. He liked to lean back and just listen to the soothing nothingness, the gentle hush of paper as he turned the page of a book, or the scratch of a pen. He liked to watch the steam spiral from his cup and smell the aroma of coffee.

But right now, silence was exactly what Wesley didn't want. Fred was studiously avoiding his eyes. She was sitting on the opposite side of the desk, highlighting sections of Lorne's contract before turning to the thick law books piled on her right side.

"Fred?"

"Found something?" she asked quickly, not looking up.

"No. I just thought we should talk."

"About what?" she was obviously trying her best to sound flippant, even smiling as though she had no idea.

"About earlier," he stated and he tried to kept his voice low and careful, but frustration grated on him and he was finding it hard to keep his voice level.

"There's nothing to say," this time her tone was crisper and he frowned at her.

"You're not making -"

"Heads up, my little goodie-goodies, there's been a development."

Wes looked beyond Fred to Lilah and he saw the annoyance and anger on Fred's face before she turned to face her. Lilah grinned, leaning through the door with one hand on the doorframe.

"What do you want?" Fred asked.

"Now, now, that's not very friendly," Lilah smiled, walking into the room. "You want to hear my news or not?"

"No," Fred snapped, turning to look at Wes for support.

He hesitated, torn between backing Fred and hearing what was so important.

"What's this development?" he asked finally and Fred gaped at him for a moment before her expression hardened into something he didn't recognise.

"You know about the White Room?" Lilah asked him.

"I've heard of it," Wesley replied.

"Well, you're about to see it first hand," Lilah straightened up, cocking a finger at him. "I'll show you the way."

Wes started to stand when Fred leapt to her feet, staring in disbelief at him.

"You're not going with her?" she gasped.

"We need to see what's happening, Fred."

"For all you know, this could be a trick. It could get you killed," her lip curled in disgust. "But, hey, it could get you laid."

"Not if you're with me," he replied, tone friendly, but the expression on his face displayed his irritation.

"You coming?" Lilah asked in a bored tone. Wes wouldn't have been surprised if she had yawned.

Fixing Wes with a quick, searching look, Fred nodded and turned to follow Lilah out of the office. Wes joined them at the elevator and they stepped inside. Lilah pressed various buttons, while Fred and Wes waited silently.

"Now I'm dead, I get the codes," Lilah sighed. "Such a waste."

Wes saw Fred roll her eyes and her lips curled downward. Then there was the white light and Fred caught hold of Wesley's arm in her surprise, dropping it quickly when she realised what she had done.

Lilah crossed her arms, sauntered forward, fingers tapping on her arms.

"Well?" Wes prompted after a moment.

"Give him time," Lilah replied without turning around.

"Him?" Fred asked in a whisper, Wes only shrugged in reply.

"Here we go," Lilah said, stepping back to stand with Fred and Wesley.

There was a couple of seconds, then in a flash of white light, strangely clear in an all white room; a naked figure hit the ground. It lay flat on its back, spread-eagled, not moving.

Exchanging glances, Wes and Fred rushed forward, staring down at the pale man on the floor.

"Is he dead?" Fred asked.

"Oh, yes," Wes nodded. "It's the defining characteristic of a vampire."

"Vampire?" Fred repeated. "How do you know?"

"That's -"

Wes was cut off by a moan and the twitching of the man's limbs as his eyes opened and he blinked in an attempt to focus on the two of them.

"Bloody hell," the man groaned.

"I haven't had the pleasure of meeting him personally," Wes said. "But unless I'm very much mistaken, this is William the Bloody, Fred. Also known as Spike."


	8. Crushed

_**Escape**_  
**Chapter Eight: Crushed  
**

"Spike?" Fred repeated, wrinkling her nose. "Funny name."

"I'm sure he'd say the same about you," Lilah replied and tossed Wesley a blanket she seemed to have plucked from thin air. "Here. Make him decent before you move him. I'll leave you to your work. The exit's this way when you're ready."

And with a final glance at Wesley, Lilah turned and walked away, slowly fading into the whiteness.

"Bloody hell," Spike said again, starting to heave himself into a sitting position.

Wesley dropped the blanket over Spike's waist and crouched down beside him, one hand on his shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I've just fallen God knows how many feet only minutes after getting my body back after being burnt from the inside out," he clutched his head. "So, no. No, I'm not all soddin' right. Who the bloody hell _are_ you two anyway?" he asked, staring in disbelief at Fred and Wesley. "And where the hell _am_ I?"

"To answer your first question, I'm Wesley Wyndham-Pryce and this is Fred Burkle."

"And you're in the White Room at Wolfram and Hart in LA," Fred finished. "Now, do you want to come downstairs with us? We could get you a mug of warm blood or something…?"

She glanced at Wesley when she realised Spike was ignoring her and muttering to himself as he stared at the floor.

"LA," he said, raising his voice. "_LA_? Don't tell me you're Angel's bleedin' cronies?"

"Afraid so," Wesley nodded. "Though I think '_cronies'_ is a little -"

"Buffy," Spike snapped suddenly. "Do you know what happened to her? Did she get out ok?"

"She's fine," Fred said, touching Spike's shoulder to calm him. "She's here. You saved the world!"

"I want to see her," Spike said immediately.

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Wesley answered quickly, shooting Fred a warning look. "Buffy's gone to Cleveland. She'll be back in a couple of days," Spike sank back a little, staring at the floor again. Fred twisted her fingers together, looking at Wesley beseechingly. He frowned at Spike. "Did you want that blood then?" he asked after a moment's silence.

Spike didn't answer, just sat quietly for a minute before standing up. Fred blushed and averted her eyes, becoming fascinated by the white middle distance. Wesley glanced at her before meeting Spike's eyes.

"Perhaps you'd like to make yourself decent before we leave?" he asked.

Spike grabbed the blanket from the floor and wrapped it round his waist.

"'S'all right now, love, you can look," he told Fred who smiled back, pretending not to have noticed.

"Right then," she said. "Blood!" she stepped to one side and indicated the right direction for Spike before falling into step behind him with Wesley. She lowered her voice to a hiss and tiptoed to whisper in Wesley's ear. "And you'd better call Buffy and Angel while I distract him."

* * *

It was half an hour later before Fred finally convinced Spike to go with her to find some clothes. She didn't think Wolfram and Hart had a clothing department, but they had to have someplace she could find clothes for him.

"All right," Spike groaned. "I'll go with you. Give me a minute to adjust my sarong though, eh?"

"There's a bathroom there," Wes said, pointing to the door on the left.

Spike went in, closing the door after him. Fred jumped out of her chair so she could lean toward Wesley.

"I'll distract him, you call Buffy, ok?" she whispered.

"I think it's best she's told in person, don't you? After all, this will be a shock. It's not exactly something _I'd_ want to hear over the phone."

"You're right. I'll keep him busy. But what do I do with him after?"

"I-" Wesley stopped when Spike opened the door of the bathroom. "I'll call you. You'll be ok?"

"She'll be just fine with me, Percy," Spike said, offering him a winning smile that made Wesley uneasy.

"C'mon, Spike," Fred said. "I'll see you later, Wesley."

"Yes, see you, Fred. Spike."

Wesley watched them leave and waited a moment before grabbing his jacket and running from the office, pushing past various employees to get to the elevator.

* * *

Buffy was alone in the lobby, curled on a couch, flicking idly through a magazine. She jumped when Wesley burst in, eyes scanning the lobby before falling on Buffy.

"Buffy," he said, coming toward her. "I have to talk to you."

"Why?" she asked, immediately defensive. "What's wrong?"

"Fred and I have been working at Wolfram and Hart."

"On the contracts, I know."

"Yes, but we were… distracted."

"Ooohh," Buffy nodded knowingly and guided a bewildered Wesley to the couch and pushed him down before sitting beside him. "I see. You and Fred got _distracted_, huh? Really, Wesley, and I thought you were a gentleman. I guess you want my advice, right? Well, clichéd as it sounds, candle-lit dinner is the safest option and -"

"Buffy, what on earth are you talking about?" Wesley asked, staring at her.

"You and… Fred. The… distraction? What are _you_ talking about?" she asked slowly with a frown.

"There's a room at Wolfram and Hart called the White Room. It's a place you go for answers, as far as I know. However, today Fred and I found that there was another use for it."

"What?" Buffy asked, staring at him, suddenly on edge.

"It's a… receiver," he said delicately.

"Receiver?" Buffy frowned. "Wesley, I don't know what you're talking about. What do you mean it's a receiver, what did it receive?"

"A person," Wes shifted uncomfortably and lowered his eyes. "I don't know how… Buffy, it's… Spike. He's back."

"Back?" Buffy blinked. "Back how? As in, here, alive?"

"Yes."

"Where is he?" she asked urgently.

"At Wolfram and Hart, Fred's keeping an eye on him. I told him that you were in Cleveland and would be back in a couple of days. I thought that would be easier than him charging in here demanding to see you. And it's bought you some time before you have to see him."

"I want to see him," Buffy said quietly, almost in a daze.

"Now?" Wes frowned. "It is late and don't you, um, want to talk to the others? Giles, Willow, Xander? Uh, _Angel_ perhaps?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Of course. But I'll see him tomorrow, first thing, tell him that?"

He nodded, stood and patted her hand before pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and calling Fred to tell her to organise a place for Spike to stay the night.

He didn't see Angel watch him go before fixing his gaze on a silent, pale and trembling Buffy.

* * *

Willow cast a final glance at Kennedy, who rolled her eyes and jutted her chin in Buffy's direction. Buffy was bent over an axe, polishing it furiously. Tentatively, Willow came round the counter and approached her friend.

"Are you trying to rub a hole in it?" she asked, a hesitant laugh in her voice.

"What?" Buffy looked up sharply and Willow sank onto the couch beside her.

"You ok?" Willow asked. "It's just… You've been a little distracted since Wesley dropped by. Is everything ok? Do we have to go to Cleveland now or something?"

"It's not that," Buffy shook her head and stood to put the axe back into the weapons cabinet before flopping back down onto the couch beside Willow. "Wesley came to give me some… news."

"News?" Willow frowned. "Good or bad?"

"Can't you guess?" Buffy asked with a rueful smile.

"Bad?" Willow offered, reaching for Buffy's hand.

"No," Buffy squeezed Willow's hand and frowned in thought. "I don't suppose it is. It's just… complicated things. Will," her voice dropped to a low whisper. "It's me and Angel. We… kissed."

"You did?" Willow beamed, then rearranged her features into a serious expression. "I mean, you did?"

"Yeah," Buffy smiled wistfully. "And we're thinking that we're gonna take it slow. There's a lot to work out. We need to see if we're still good together, if the same problems we had before are still there and if we can get over them. So, we're going slow… Just in case."

"So why the long face?" Willow asked. "What's Wesley's news got to do with anything? Where's the complications?"

"Wes and Fred were at Wolfram and Hart when something happened…" Willow waited silently for Buffy to continue. "There's this room at Wolfram and Hart. It gives answers or something. And it's some kind of receiver."

"Buffy, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Willow said gently, rubbing Buffy's arm.

"No, it's ok. I need to tell someone. I've got to tell Angel and I don't know how. It's just so… It's Spike, Willow. He's back. Wes and Fred found him in the White Room. He's back. He's alive."

Willow froze, staring at Buffy. Her fingers stiffened in Buffy's hand Buffy was momentarily distracted by Willow's reaction.

"Hey, Will, you ok? Willow?"

"I, uh, I have to…" Willow tugged her hand free from Buffy's and stood up from the couch, stumbling backward. "I have to go. I'm sorry, Buffy. I just… I can't. I have to go."

She practically ran through the main doors of the hotel, leaving Buffy staring after her. Kennedy took a few steps around the counter and frowned at Buffy.

"What happened?" she asked.

* * *

"He should be ok there for tonight at least," Fred told Wesley. "He was fine once I filled the fridge with blood and beer and plugged the TV in. But I don't think you'll keep him there very long. If he doesn't see Buffy soon, he'll be driving out to Cleveland before we can say _stop._"

"It shouldn't come to that," Wesley answered. "Buffy wants to see him. She's going to see him tomorrow."

"You think she'll tell Angel?" Fred asked, sitting on the leather couch and yawning.

"I hope so," Wes answered, leaving his chair and settling on the couch at the opposite end to Fred. "I've no doubt she'll tell one of her friends. Willow, Xander or Giles perhaps. But it might be harder to tell Angel. But who knows? He might have been the first person she told."

They sat in silence for a while, with Wesley shifting uncomfortably on the squeaking leather. Fred cast him a glance, but looked away when he looked toward her. He shifted again, turning slightly to face her.

"Fred, I just wanted to say, about earlier -"

He was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, followed by it slamming open to reveal a flustered Willow. Fred almost sighed in relief, she had known what conversation Wes had been trying to start and was grateful that he was stopped. She didn't want to hear it. She didn't ever want to hear it.

"Hi, Willow," Fred smiled. "What's up?"

"I wondered if I could speak to you?" she asked.

"Sure, I'll leave you two alone," Fred scrambled up from the couch, not looking at Wesley.

"Fred, wait," Wes called weakly, reaching out for her.

But she just waved her hands and left the room. Wes sighed and sank back into the couch. He ran his hands over his hair slowly, then he looked up at Willow.

"Yes, Willow, what can I do for you?" he asked.

She crossed the room and stopped shortly in front of him, fidgeting uncomfortably.

"Buffy told me," she blurted out suddenly.

"Ah."

"Yeah. She said he came back through some place here. The White Room or something?"

"Yes. Fred and I found Spike in the White Room."

"So he's back, right? He's alive? Well, not alive because he's a vampire and, y'know, dead anyway. But he's here?"

"Yes. Willow -"

"This White Room's really powerful, right? It can give answers and it can bring people back from the dead, right?"

Her voice was bordering on hysterical and tears brimmed in her eyes. Wes reached out to grab Willow's fidgeting fingers and draw her rapid movements to a stop.

"Sit down," he said gently, pulling her toward the couch. She sat and took a long breath. "Now. Take a deep breath. What is it you want to know?"

"The White Room can bring people back from the dead," Willow stated in a trembling voice.

"I don't know about that. It was certainly a player in Spike's return, but I don't - what is this about?"

"Do you know about Tara?" she asked.

"I had heard," Wes answered, lowering his gaze in discomfort.

"She was shot," Willow went on in a low voice. "It was an accident. It wasn't supposed to be her. I, uh, I killed the guy that shot her. Did you hear that?"

"Giles mentioned something when he was telling me about the spell you did in Sunnydale," he replied.

"Can this, um, White Room bring anyone back?" Willow asked bluntly, looking Wesley dead in the eye.

Wesley gaped, felt his stomach clench as he realised what she was asking him. He gulped hard before attempting to explain. He opened his mouth, then shut it again at the look on Willow's face. He took a deep breath before trying again.

"The higher powers would have had a hand in Spike's return," he said gently, touching Willow's knee. "They would have wanted Spike to come back for whatever reason."

"And they wouldn't want Tara to come back?" Willow's voice grew shrill and hoarse with tears. To Wesley's horror, tears spilled down her cheeks and she grabbed hold of his jeans and twisted her fingers into the material. She shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. She was so good, Wesley. She was so good and kind. Why wouldn't they want her back? She was everything. She was _everything_. She was everything I'm not. She was caring, generous, brave, strong," she gave a slightly hysterical laugh. "Strong like an Amazon. Why wouldn't they want her to come back?"

"Willow, I'm so sorry," Wesley whispered, covering her hands with his.

"It's not fair," she choked. "Good people… It's always good people."

He gulped, remembering something quite similar floating through his mind when Cordelia died. And again when Fred had cried in his arms the night Buffy and the others arrived.

"I know," he said.

Then with a wild sob, Willow pressed against him, hands letting go of his jeans so she could wrap her arms around his neck as she sobbed into his shoulder. He froze for a moment, before easing his arms around her waist and rocking her gently, whispering meaningless comforts as Willow continued to cry.

* * *

Gunn jogged down the stairs and glanced around the empty lobby. He crossed to the counter and was about to enter the office when he heard voices. He was about to turn around when he heard Angel's voice muttering angrily through the half open door of his office. Gunn jumped back as Angel stormed out, grunting a greeting before stalking toward the basement and disappearing.

Gunn gave a low whistle. He'd had a feeling that Buffy's arrival would cause friction. He remembered all too well Angel's reaction to her death and her consequent resurrection. He wasn't so much shocked as surprised Angel and Buffy were back together. The way he heard it, they were meant to be. And when Buffy and Angel came back from Wolfram and Hart earlier they had been exchanging sweet smiles and Gunn had got the distinct impression that things were back on track for them.

_Guess I was wrong,_ he thought, wandering into the lobby in time to see Wesley and Fred return with Willow. They were either side of the redheaded witch, Fred had her arm looped through Willow's and Wes was guiding her with his hand on the small of her back. Gunn raised an eyebrow in question at Wes who shook his head and grimaced.

"Willow?" Kennedy ran down the stairs and halted in front of her. "What's wrong? Are you ok?"

"Yeah," Willow nodded. "I'm good. I'm gonna go lay down, I'm pretty tired."

She pulled away from Fred and Wes and made her way slowly up the stairs. Kennedy hesitated.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked softly.

Willow turned slowly, sniffled, then shook her head with a smile.

"I'd like that."

They watched the two walk up the stairs together and then retreated to the couch in the middle of the lobby.

"What's going on?" Gunn asked, watching the two women leave.

"Grief," Wesley answered.

"And love too, I think," Fred added, smiling at Willow and Kennedy.

Gunn nodded and was about to ask how the work was going when he noticed the tension between Wes and Fred. _Not them too,_ he groaned inwardly. Why was it that no one could have a normal relationship? Why was it that it could never be simple?

"Seems you two have got some private issues to discuss," Gunn said, standing up. "And I've got somewhere to be."

Fred gaped at him and sighed as he left.

"So let's talk," she said. "What is it that you keep trying to tell me?"

"That I'm sorry about what happened with Lilah -"

"That -"

"Are you going to let me finish?" he asked with a smile, she nodded, zipping her lips. "I didn't want you to walk in on it. She kissed me and yes, I kissed her back. It was a moment of madness. It's not her I want."

"Ok," she shrugged. "That's all right then. We'll forget about it."

"Yes," he answered slowly. "But, aren't you going to ask me who I want if I don't want her?"

Fred avoided his eyes and blushed.

"Do you want to tell me?" she asked softly.

"I think you already know," he answered.

She looked up sharply at him, lips trembling inches from his. He leaned forward slightly, gaining in confidence when she didn't pull away.

"Oh. Sorry."

They darted apart and looked around to see Xander hesitating on the stairs.

"Xander," Wes greeted. "Good to see you out and about."

"Yeah, I thought maybe I should socialise."

"Great idea," Fred beamed, leaping up from the couch. "We could get a video. I bet Dawn and Andrew would wanna join us. Maybe Giles too? It'll be fun!"

She ran up the stairs to her room to search her DVD collection.

"I interrupted something, didn't I?" Xander said, sitting down beside Wesley.

"I've no idea," he replied as Fred returned with Dawn and Andrew and an arm full of DVDs, carefully avoiding Wesley's eyes.

* * *

Gunn hesitated outside the door of the apartment. He turned away from the door, turned back and then away again.

"Get a grip!" he hissed to himself and faced the door.

He lifted his fist to knock when the door swung open. The woman stared at him, eyes wide, gloved hand on hip.

"Hey, Gwen."


	9. The Morning After

_**Escape**_  
**Chapter Nine: The Morning After  
**

Angel hadn't moved for what Buffy estimated was about a minute. She was staring at his back, noting abstractly that he hadn't removed his jacket since he got back.

"Aren't you going to say something?" she asked after a long silence.

He didn't move for a moment, then slowly turned, the leather of his jacket creaking and his shoes squeaking.

"What am I supposed to say to that?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Buffy cried in frustration. "Tell me you're pleased he's back. Or that you wish he'd stayed dead. Or even forbid me to ever see him! _Some_thing!"

"Well, Buffy, I'm a little stunned. It's not every day someone comes back from the dead," he answered, folding his arms. "Especially someone like Spike."

"He died a hero, Angel," Buffy said softly.

Angel snorted and turned his back on her again.

"No, don't turn your back on me, Angel," she said, taking his arm and turning him back. "We need to talk about this."

"Why?" he asked. "You said it wouldn't affect us."

"I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say to him."

"How about 'I love you'?" Angel asked sarcastically.

Buffy blinked, flashing back quickly to the argument they had just after she arrived, an argument that ended in their first disastrous kiss.

"Is that why you're being like this?" she asked softly. "You think I'm gonna get with Spike? You and I are trying to make a go of us, Angel. I wouldn't do that to you."

You couldn't force that kind of sincerity, he realised and he came toward her. He pulled her into a hug and she gripped the folds of his jacket tightly and inhaled his scent. He kissed her hair gently and sighed.

"You should go and see him," he said in a low voice.

"You don't want me too, do you?" she asked.

"I never said Spike was my favourite person. But I understand you two have been through a lot and now he's back, you need to see him. I might not like it, but I can't stop you."

"No, I guess not."

"And he did save the world after all," he replied, attempting a smile.

She grinned at him and threw her arms around his neck.

And while Buffy hugged him, Angel frowned.

* * *

Spike had got up at the crack of dawn, pacing and trying to watch TV. Since Wesley had told him the night before that Buffy was back from Cleveland and would see him in the morning, Spike hadn't been able to keep still. He took a sip of his blood and spat it out. He wiped the now cold blood from his lips and pushed the mug away.

He glanced down at his shirt. Fred had somehow managed to find him an entire wardrobe and he was currently wearing a blue shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes, according to Fred. That was why he was wearing it, to create the right impression. But now he wondered whether he ought to just tug on a black t-shirt and stick a cigarette in his mouth. That would be at least be something she'd recognise.

He jumped when he heard the soft knock on the door and he bolted from his chair, stumbling in his haste to reach the door. He came to an abrupt halt and glanced again at his shirt, smoothed his hair, smiled and opened the door.

He'd had a plan. He'd had it all figured out. He wasn't going to get heavy with her, just a gentle hug, invite her in. He'd even got Fred to get him some coffee so he had something to offer her.

But now she was there, standing in front of him, staring at him in wide-eyed disbelief, he found he couldn't move. He couldn't do anything but stand there feeling awkward. He moved slightly to hug her, but noticed her arms were poker straight, pinned to her sides. It would be ridiculous to hug her when she stood like that, so he stopped his movement halfway.

Buffy gulped when she saw him, standing in the doorway in an unfamiliar blue shirt. She saw him move to hug her then stop and fall back into his original position. She toyed with the idea of giving him a quick, friendly hug, but realised she had been standing there for too long. The moment had passed and she was left feeling silly and awkward.

"Hi, Buffy," he said finally, smiling a little hesitantly.

"Hey, Spike," she replied, finding herself suddenly able to break into a warm, genuine smile.

It was really true. He was back. He was alive. She felt affection and feeling she felt for him just before he died fill her chest and warm her through. For some reason, she couldn't wipe the smile from her face.

"Come in," he offered, stepping to one side to allow her entry.

She entered slowly, casting her eyes around the small apartment. It was decorated in black and white, with varying shades of grey. She almost smiled at the irony.

He led her into the kitchen and she raised an eyebrow at the blood spattered across the table.

"Fighting already, Spike?" she asked.

He shrugged, chuckling self-conciously.

"That sounds cooler than me spitting it out 'cause it was cold," he replied.

She laughed and he frowned, trying to remember the last time he made her laugh and found he couldn't. She pulled out a chair, glanced at him and he nodded.

"Coffee?" he asked, opening the cupboard and pulling out the coffee and a mug.

"No, thanks. I had something at the hotel."

"Oh," he paused, putting the mug and coffee away. _Angel's hotel?_ he thought, remembering Fred saying something about Angel putting them up. He turned back to her. "So, Angel cooked you something?"

"No," Buffy shook her head, feeling discomfort prick at the base of her neck, making that warm, good feeling churn. "Willow did. They've got a huge kitchen and Willow was feeling homemakery."

"How is she?" he asked, taking a seat opposite her.

"Fine," Buffy answered.

"I, uh…" he lowered his gaze, doodling random patterns on the table top with his finger. "Well, Fred mentioned… It didn't really go so well… In Sunnydale… Something about Xander being upset?" he looked up at her. "Is it true? Is Anya dead?"

Buffy stared at him for a moment before pulling away from his intense gaze.

"Yes. She died saving Andrew's life apparently."

"And the - uh, Xander, he's ok?"

"He's upset, but he's getting along. He actually watched a movie with some of the guys at the hotel last night. What, uh, else did Fred mention?"

"Just that Sunnydale no longer exists," he shrugged, but he had noted the uncertainty in her question. "Can't think why you didn't level the place sooner. And that you're thinking of going to Cleveland?" his voice raised slightly in question.

Buffy paused before answering. That had been the plan. Take a little while off in LA, then find the Slayers in LA, fill them in on their new talents, get Angel on the case and move on to Cleveland with the gang. Only now things weren't so simple. Mainly because she didn't think Angel would be into a long distance relationship that they were also taking slow.

But, of course, she couldn't say that to Spike. So she shrugged.

"Maybe," she hedged. "I might. But I've been thinking maybe Giles and the guys could go up there instead. There's good schools here for Dawn -"

"And there's not in Cleveland?" Spike cut in.

"It's not that. It's just that we used to live here, in LA. This used to be home. But everything's still up in the air at the moment. Who knows? I might even go to England!"

He didn't laugh, only quirked his mouth slightly in a smile. She was avoiding the question and he already had his suspicions as to why.

"So, how is the Bit?" he asked, "got out in one piece?"

"Yep. She did great. She's taking care of Andrew at the moment, they've found a mutual friend in Lorne."

"Who?"

"A friend of Angel's. He's an empathic demon," there was a long silence until Buffy said in a soft voice, "Thank you, Spike."

"For what?"

"For what you did. Without you -"

"You would have been fine."

"Spike, you know as well as I do that that's crap."

"Well," he shrugged. "I'm not one to toot my own horn."

An awkward silence descending and Spike watched as Buffy shifted uncomfortably. He lowered his gaze and stared at the dried blood on the table.

"Buffy," he said after a while. "I'm kinda tired… Resurrection and all."

"Oh, right," she nodded and stood up quickly enough for him to be sure she was uncomfortabl. "I'll see you later, Spike. Maybe you could drop by the hotel…?"

"Maybe," he answered.

"Or I could come here," she added.

"That'd be nice," he replied.

She nodded, unable to find anything else to say and he stood to escort her to the door. He opened it for her, hoping he didn't look too eager to see the back of her. She hesitated before grabbing him suddenly in a hug.

But it wasn't the kind of hug he had imagined last night.

It wasn't hard and gripping, with her touching him to make sure he was real and him holding onto her for the same reason.

This hug was a quick, friendly, _good-to-have-you-back_ hug. And as he watched her leave, he realised with a jolt that he had been right when he said she didn't really love him.

And as he closed the door, he had only one thought.

_Angel._

* * *

Gunn was giving Angel a run for his money in the brooding stakes, Xander thought as he descended the stairs and found Gunn hunched on the couch.

After being accosted by Willow the night before after the film and pizza fest, Xander knew all about the whole Spike thing.

Reading between the lines, Xander also had a sneaking suspicion that the main problem for Buffy wasn't so much that Spike was _back_ as Spike was back while she and Angel were back together. Xander supposed he ought to be annoyed at least by Angel and Buffy being back together and maybe even pissed by Spike's return.

But he didn't have the energy to rage against them anymore.

Instead, he mostly felt sad because Spike was back instead of Anya. He knew Willow felt the same about Tara, he could tell by the damp look in her eyes when she told him and the way she squeezed his hand a little tighter. But Xander consoled himself with the thought that he wouldn't want Anya to return because she was in Heaven and he wanted her happy.

And he really couldn't see the point of being angry when it came to Buffy and Angel. The past few days had taught him that you ought to cherish love when it came along. And no matter how much he didn't like the idea of Buffy dating a vampire, he didn't doubt they loved each other. And now he had learnt that was all that really mattered.

"You ok, man?"

Xander looked up and realised he had sat down and was steadily getting into his own little brood fest. He shrugged off his blues and shook his head, smiling at Gunn.

"I'm fine," he said. "But I think I ought to ask you if you're ok."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you look like you got the weight of the world on your shoulders," Xander feigned deep thought for a moment. "So that means it's either an apocalypse or a woman. We've just had the apocalypse, so I'd guess woman. Am I wrong?"

Gunn shrugged moodily.

_"You left me, Gunn. Remember? I woke up and you weren't there. You didn't call or anything. Just left. So I never want to see you again. Understand? Now get out of my way."_

_"Gwen -"_

_"I mean it, Gunn. If you don't get out of my way, I'll remind you why they called me freak at school."_

Gunn winced at the memory of Gwen's reaction to his offer of dinner. Looking back, maybe it really had been too little too late.

"A woman," he admitted with a rueful smile.

"Did she give you the brush off?" Xander asked bluntly.

Gunn bristled slightly at the suggestion.

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Then I've only got one piece of advice," Xander told him, standing up. "Don't. Give. Up."


	10. Denial

_**Escape**_  
**Chapter Ten: Denial  
**

"I can't believe this," Dawn said. "He's been back since yesterday afternoon and she didn't mention it."

She stared into her soda, the fact that Andrew hadn't whined about buying it for her not exactly registering at that moment.

"She told us all this morning," Andrew reminded her gently, before asking tentatively. "Do you mind?"

"I mind that she didn't say something earlier," Dawn frowned. "But I guess I can understand it."

"I didn't mean that," Andrew replied. "I meant Spike. Do you mind that he's back?"

"Why would I mind?" Dawn muttered, blowing bubbles in the soda, avoiding Andrew's questioning gaze.

"I know you two were pretty tight for a while and then, when I turned up; I noticed you had some… tension. And not the Buffy-Spike kinda tension."

"Andrew, could you be any more gross? Spike and I have never had Buffy-Spike tension. We were friends."

"Were?" Andrew prompted.

"My God, you're an annoying little man," Dawn snapped, but then smiled in apology. "Look, I fell out with Spike because of… stuff that happened with Buffy. We never got the chance to talk about it, to duke it out over a game of chess," she caught Andrew's stunned look and fought the blush she felt rise to her cheeks. "What? We played chess. Can't I be an intellectual? Anyway, you were there, you saw what it was like, what was going on. So Spike and I never got to make up."

"Buffy and Spike made up," Andrew pointed out. "Would you have, if you got the chance?"

"I don't know," Dawn shrugged. "I never had to think about it."

"And now he's back?"

"And now he's back," Dawn tailed off. "He'll be too busy with fighting Angel for Buffy to worry about me. But yeah, I did miss him. I did feel guilty that he died before we made up. That's what you've been getting at, right?"

"Damn, and I thought my subtlety was improving," he grinned at her and took a sip of his soda.

Dawn drank her soda through her pink straw, then trailed it through the liquid in silence. Suddenly, she stopped, staring into her soda, slightly surprised. Then she looked up at Andrew with a teasing smile.

"Andrew, did you just buy me a soda?"

* * *

Spike stretched and yawned as he padded down the hall to the answer the door. The knocking was steady and continuous, annoying Spike immediately.

"All right, all right. Will you – oh," he stopped when he saw exactly who was glowering in his doorway. "Angel."

"Spike. Do I need an invite?"

"Whether you do or not, you can come in," Spike answered, pushing the door open and stepping back to allow his Grandsire entry.

Angel stepped in slowly, looking around the hallway. He looked back at Spike with raised eyebrows.

"Not exactly you, is it, Spike?" he asked. "You're more the rust, broken glass and old grave dirt type."

"Insults already?" Spike replied, wandering into the living room and flopping on the black leather couch. "And here was me thinking you came for a civilised conversation."

"You mean you've got a roommate?" Angel answered.

"What do you want?" Spike asked, bored of the sniping. "I can guess, but she's quite the complex woman, so how about you narrow it down for me?"

Angel hesitated for a moment, before sitting down slowly beside Spike, staring at the plasma screen TV. He remembered vaguely that his contract with Wolfram and Hart included an apartment and he wondered whether it had a plasma TV and an XBox.

"What do you intend to do?" Angel asked stiffly.

"What are my intentions?" Spike scoffed. "It's not 1880 anymore, Angel. Come join the rest of us in the twenty-first century."

"Answer the question," Angel gritted out.

"Can't," Spike answered. "Because I haven't got any intentions. You here to lay down the rules of engagement, eh?"

"I just don't want her hurt," Angel stated firmly.

"You mean you want me out of your city as soon as humanly possible?"

"I never said that," Angel replied snappishly. "I know you two have… a lot to sort out. That's fine," he stood up, knowing he couldn't stay there any longer before he admitted he and Buffy were trying to make a go of things.

Though he dearly wished he could tell Spike, the only thing stopping him was the fact that it was Buffy who should tell him, Buffy who _wanted_ to tell him. But that didn't stop the animalistic urge to mark out his territory, to tell Spike to back off because _he had no claim on her_.

Instead, he took a deep breath and clenched his fists to keep a hold on his temper.

"Just don't hurt her," he hissed, before turning to leave.

* * *

He found her three blocks away from her building. She was leaning, with her nose practically pressed against the glass, smiling wistfully at a pair of shoes.

Gunn hung back for a moment to look at her. She had always dressed well, but the gloves had been an ever present accessory. Now though, her arms were bare and she swung them happily as she dragged herself away from the window and continued down the street.

Gunn started after her, hurrying along and reaching out a hand to grab her bare shoulder. She swung around to meet him with a fierce glare.

"Gunn?" she said weakly, the glare fading slightly into confusion. Then she stepped back out of her grip and opened her bag, looking through it as she muttered, "I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again?" she looked up and he noticed the long red gloves in her hands, she pulled one on with a menacing look as she added. "Or else?"

"Thought you didn't need those anymore?" he asked, indicating the gloves as she pulled on the second one.

"They're my thing," she snapped. "And – wait, why do you care anyway?"

"Gwen, I want to talk to you," he started to walk at her side as she turned away from him. "I want to explain what happened between us."

"Gunn, I know I wasn't experienced, but I'm not stupid, I do know what happened. We slept together, you left and I got on with my life. End of."

"And what if I don't want it to be the end of?" Gunn asked.

Gwen came to a sudden halt and stared at him incredulously.

"You kidding me?"

"I believe we start with coffee," Gunn said gently, pointing to a coffee shop across the street. "But, hey, I'm not all that experienced in these things either."

She gave him a brief, searching look through narrowed eyes, then nodded slowly and followed him across the street.

She settled into a soft leather chair as he ordered the drinks and when he returned, her gloves were off again.

"So what's up with that?" he asked, inclining his head toward where they lay scrunched on the edge of the table.

Gwen shrugged and didn't look at him as she sipped her scalding coffee.

"I'm working on controlling it," she said. "Between making the decision to use my… power and actually doing it, there's a split second. It's a precautionary measure. If I do a job, I'm already in the frame of mind that I'm gonna use it. It's safer this way."

Gunn snorted and it wasn't until he met Gwen's eyes that he realised what a mistake that had been.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" she snapped.

"That it's bullshit," he answered bluntly. "While you've got that… device, you're no danger," he raised an eyebrow at her. "I know that better than anyone," he leaned forward and lowered his voice as he added. "You're just scared."

"Am not!" she protested childishly.

His hand darted out and grabbed hers. Her eyes widened, her breath hitched, but he met her eyes challengingly.

"Habit of a lifetime," she said, her voice wavering slightly as she pulled away.

"I'm sorry, Gwen," he said, leaning back in his chair, watching her gather herself together. "I shouldn't have walked out on you like that. But, y'know, things did get kinda crazy," at her sharp look, he quickly added. "Not that that's any excuse."

"I still don't get why you're here," she replied coolly.

"Someone told me not to give up," Gunn answered. "Thought I'd take his advice."

"Why?" Gwen asked suspiciously.

"Because I like you," Gunn said simply, then smirked. "And I kinda think you like me too."

* * *

"You know," Fred mused aloud. "Our grapevine's pretty good."

"What was that?" Wes asked, rubbing his eyes as he took a welcome break from scouring contracts and legal texts.

He supposed their conversations and ludicrously long coffee breaks were to blame for the amount of time this was taking. But he couldn't seem to care when she smiled at him.

"Our grapevine," Fred repeated. "I don't know how, but everyone knows all about Angel and Buffy getting back together. And thanks to Buffy's announcement this morning, everyone knows about Spike being back."

"Yes," Wes nodded. "It's rather like being in an extremely complicated soap opera. With vampires," he added as an afterthought.

Fred chuckled, but her face quickly settled back into what Wesley immediately recognised as her Thinking Face.

"Should I be worried?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"Fred, I can see from here that you're hatching something. Should I be worried, scared or possibly jealous?"

"None of the above," Fred replied, a slightly scolding note to her voice. "You should be pleased. Pleasantly surprised, even."

"Oh?"

"Mmm," Fred nodded. "I was thinking that since we're not getting anywhere fast with this, we may as well take advantage of the resources while we carry on with figuring out how to severe our contracts."

"Take advantage of the resources for what purpose exactly?"

"Curing Angel's curse?"

Wes didn't answer immediately, but glanced at Fred's notebook shrewdly. He grabbed the notebook from her and leapt away from the table as she cried out in protest and reached for him. He held the notebook out of her reach and laughed as he studied her latest artistic offering. It was a cartoon of Angel with half his face goofy and love struck, while the other half was wrinkled in his vampire visage.

"Well," Wes said. "I think this is something that needs discussing over dinner."

"We're going nowhere until you've given my notebook back," Fred answered, trying and failing to sound stern.

As he brought his arm down to hand it to her, she caught hold of his elbow and pulled. He stumbled forward slightly, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder, notebook clutched tightly. She was staring at him, ignoring the notebook she had fought so hard for.

So Wes bent forward slightly.

And kissed her.

* * *

Xander looked up as Fred and Wes entered the hotel and frowned as he noted the awkwardness between them. He had thought that the gang in Sunnydale had the most complicated love lives, but he seemed to have found a group that challenged that title.

_Jeez, _he thought. _You'd think people that intelligent would figure how perfect they are for each other._

He heard Wes's vague mutters about "A blip. Of course, just a bloody blip," and was about to make a few pointed comments when the doors of the hotel opened again, this time banging open loudly.

Xander could have been back in the Magic Box, in the middle of a sunny afternoon with Anya humming merrily by the shelves, Tara smiling sweetly at Willow… and Spike barrelling in covered in a dark blanket at the most inappropriate moment.

Xander blinked away the memory and stared at Spike who was patting out a smoking patch on his black shirt. He looked up, scanning the lobby when his eyes fell on Xander.

Xander didn't feel anything. Not even the vague annoyance he always felt around Spike. He had decided he was going to accept the Buffy and Angel thing, which meant that left no room for Spike. He couldn't even feel smug that this was one thing Spike didn't win. If he felt anything at all for the blonde vampire, it was a pity.

Until Spike opened his mouth.

"Harris," he said, looking a little uncomfortable. "Uh, Xander… Sorry to hear about… She was a great girl, Anya was…"

When he heard her name, coming from Spike of all people, Xander suddenly felt a whole lot more than pity.

He jumped up and glared at Spike. He felt tears pricking again, the churning in his stomach telling him that if he let himself cry, he'd crumble to the floor in a sobbing, Xander-shaped heap. That wasn't something he was going to let Spike see.

"Don't," he snapped. "We're not friends, you never cared, so we don't discuss this. What are you even doing here, Spike? Buffy doesn't need you anymore. One vampire is enough for her."

Spike didn't react for a second, then the meaning of his words sank in. He glared at Xander, his own temper suddenly rising up, his anger, like Xander's, ready to snap at the easiest target, if not the cause of his anger.

"Are you trying to piss me off, Harris?" he hissed. "'Cause I didn't come here looking for a fight and all I get from you is your usual crap. Grow the fuck up, Whelp."

Wes and Fred left their offices and leaned over the counter to watch the pair's anger die as they launched into their usual sniping.

"Whelp? Is that the best you can come up with?" Xander sneered.

"Give me a minute and something to write with and I'm sure I can improve it."

"Write with? You mean you're capable of something that doesn't involve fists?"

"Unlike you, I'm multi talented, Mr-I-Fight-Like-A-Girl."

The hotel's main doors opened once again and Gunn paused to watch the bitching as the rest of the gang slowly came toward the lobby, staring at the two men sneering like schoolgirls.

Gunn smiled grimly at a surprised Gwen.

"Meet the family, honey."


	11. Broken

_**Escape  
**_**Chapter Eleven: Broken**

Author's Note: The dialogue quoted is from _End of Days_ and _Touched_. I wanted to use it to show the relationship between Buffy and Spike and how it affects their current relationship. I trimmed Spike's speech from _Touched_ to the bare minimum of what's needed so this chapter wasn't too full of stuff we know already.

* * *

"Is it always like this?" Gwen asked.

"Only when we've got bad company," Xander replied, looking pointedly at Spike.

"Then why don't you leave, Harris, you -"

"Enough!" Buffy snapped, finally stepping forward.

The rest of them glanced at each other, suddenly aware of how amusing they had found Spike and Xander's run-in and how much it would complicate things between Angel and Buffy.

"Just quit it, you two!" Buffy added, when she saw Spike open his mouth again. "Spike, can I talk to you?"

Spike shot Xander a triumphant look and sauntered across the lobby to Buffy. He noticed Angel glowering at him from the door of the office, but Angel remained silent, sweeping past both him and Buffy, ignoring everyone to stomp upstairs.

"He's fine," Buffy mumbled. "Just…"

She tailed off and Spike found himself nodding like an idiot. He glanced back at the others crowded in the lobby, they quickly turned their attention away from him and Willow suggested loudly that they all went for a picnic.

Spike followed Buffy into the office and felt his heart sink at the look on her face.

He had been right when she first visited him. He had decided the reason for her distance was Angel and he had the sickening, horrible feeling that he was right.

"I suppose this is the big talk," Spike said gently as Buffy sat down. "The part where we resolve whatever there is between us. _If_ there's anything between us. Am I right?"

"Yes," Buffy answered softly. "We need to talk, Spike."

"We've covered that base, Slayer."

"Yeah," she smiled a little at him, but it quickly disappeared.

He had started breathing, she noticed in surprise. She could hear him, taking in unsteady breaths, trying unsuccessfully to stop, just like he had when they tried to talk after that night they spent together before the big battle in Sunnydale, the night he had been the only person in the world she had.

_ "It was the best night of my life. If you poke fun at me, you bloody well better use that, 'cause I couldn't bear it. It may not mean that much to you, but -" _

_"I just told you it did."_

_"Yeah, I hear you say it, but… I've lived for soddin' ever, Buffy. I've done everything. Done things with you I can't spell, but… I've never… been close… to anyone. Least of all you. 'Til last night. All I did was… hold you, watch you sleep. And it was the best night of my life. So, yeah, I'm… terrified."_

She gulped hard, pushing the memory away, fixing her eyes on some distant point over Spike's shoulder, so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"I have to tell you something."

"I'm all ears."

He was smiling at her and knowing that what she was about to say would break his heart made Buffy want to curl up in a little ball and let someone else deal with it.

She didn't want to be the one.

_"A hundred plus years and there's only one thing I've ever been sure of. You… And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman. You're the one, Buffy."_

_"I don't wanna be the one."_

She swallowed hard. She owed him this, she owed him explanations and the reassurance that she had cared and still did.

"It's about me and Angel."

"Ah."

"We've… grown closer since I got here…"

"Old feelings came rushing back."

"Spike, please, don't make this harder," he didn't answer then and only sank down into his chair and remained silent. Buffy leaned forward slightly, wondering if she should take his hand. "We've decided – Angel and I – that we're going to give our relationship another try."

Spike didn't answer for a moment. He only looked at her, as though her words hadn't sunk in. When they did, he shifted, sat up and shrugged.

"Well, that's only natural, you being in love and all."

"Spike…"

"That didn't come out right," Spike sighed, rubbing his head. "Look, I expected this. I always kinda knew that one day you two would be thrown together again and this time you'd be willing to fight. It's fate, Buffy. Two champions like you and Angel. They don't make love stories like that anymore. I'm not gonna pretend that I hadn't hoped you'd choose me, because I did, but if you're happy… I guess that's all I wanted. I don't love you because I can't have you, remember? But, uh, if it's all right with you, I don't think I'll be sticking around."

"You mean you're leaving LA?" Buffy asked, a little surprised.

"Not much to stick around for, is there? Anyway, looks to me like you won't be heading out to Cleveland and a Hellmouth could use someone experienced as well as a bunch of girls. Who knows, might be fun."

This time, when Buffy felt she wanted to take Spike's hand, she did and gave it a slight squeeze.

"Thank you," she said in a low voice.

Spike clenched his jaw. It was all well and good to say he was fine with it, to say it was good that Buffy was happy. But that didn't mean he didn't feel sick, hot with anger and hollowed out by the revelation that his hunch had been right.

"'S'all right," he answered brusquely, standing up slowly.

She stood as well and followed him to the door of the office, out into the strangely empty lobby. Which was only empty for a minute, until Andrew and Dawn came into the office.

"Spike?" Dawn said, voice soft and awestruck, though she had known Spike was back, it was a shock to see him actually standing there.

"Hey there, L'il Bit. How you -"

But his words were lost as Andrew launched himself across the lobby and grabbed Spike around the shoulders, hugging him tightly.

"You're really back! I couldn't believe it, but it's true. I knew you'd come back! I knew it!"

"Uh, Andrew?" Dawn ventured, coming forward, giggling, to pry Andrew from Spike. "That's my line."

While Buffy stared up at the first floor landing, at Angel, who was watching from the shadows.

* * *

"Hey."

Angel turned at the soft voice. He had returned to his room when he saw Buffy make her way to the staircase, but he had known that wouldn't stop her.

"Spike's still here," she went on. "He's downstairs, talking with Dawn and Andrew. I didn't think he'd show up here, Angel."

"I know," he replied.

"But it's ok," she said, coming toward him, hands reaching out for his. "I've told him and you and me. He's fine with it. He said he's going to Cleveland to keep an eye on the Hellmouth. I think he's gonna talk to Giles about it later. So we don't have to worry about that."

"No," Angel answered in a flat voice, his fingers lax in hers.

"Angel?"

"I heard you, Buffy, remember? I heard you tell Willow that you loved Spike. That's not something you forget all that quickly."

"But what's that got to do with us?" Buffy asked, frowning, backing away from him slightly.

"Everything," Angel pulled his hands away and paced the length of the room. "It just proves that… that…"

"What?" Buffy asked, voice icy, eyes narrowed.

"We've over," he whispered.

"Over?" she repeated, sounding so much like that sixteen year old girl he knew that he had to consciously remind himself that they weren't there anymore.

In the here and now, too much water had passed under the bridge, so much had changed. They had changed; feelings that they had thought remained the same had changed. They weren't the same people they had been. He was still in love with a teenage Slayer and she was still in love with her fairytale image of her souled vampire lover.

"You and I, Buffy, what we had, it's over. It's dead and buried. We're just trying to resurrect something that we should just leave as a memory."

"Are you saying you don't love me?"

"No, I'm saying I do love you. I'm saying I know you love Spike. I'm saying that you and I love each other best from a distance. Especially when you're in love with someone else."

"But I'm not! I care about Spike; I'm not in love with him. It's you I want, Angel, it's you I've always wanted."

"But it won't work," Angel shook his head, "we've had our time. It's time for us to move on. Let's end it here, before we hurt each other. You know that's how this always ends."

"I can't believe this," Buffy said. "I thought we were gonna fight for us. Isn't that what we do? Fight? I thought that was why we were fighting for _us_ because fighting's what we're good at."

"If we have to fight for this, Buffy, this obviously isn't the right thing to do."

Buffy stared at him and he watched as her expression hardened into disdain.

"You know what? You're right. Goodbye, Angel."

* * *

Fred and Wes were silent the entire ride up on the elevator, each pressed as far away from each other as possible.

"Any idea what they called us about?" Fred asked, as they left the elevator and headed toward the reception desk.

"Not a clue," Wes replied. "Yes, hello," he smiled at the receptionist. "Miss Burkle and I are here about the phone call I received."

"Yes," the receptionist nodded. "It's about the world search you put out. Our top man in research, Robert Jenkins, is waiting in your office."

They nodded their thanks and headed toward the office, glancing at each other nervously.

"Ah, Mr Wyndham-Pryce and Miss Burkle, I presume?" a tall, gangly man stood up from the leather couch as they entered the office and extended his hand. "I'm Rob Jenkins."

"Yes," Wes answered warily, shaking his hand. "We were told you had information for us."

"I do," Robert grinned, bobbing on the balls of his feet. "Here."

He handed them a file, stuffed with an ancient script, a rough translation, various commentaries and lists.

"What is it?" Fred asked, looking at the file as Wes skimmed through it.

"You did put out a search for the cure for the Romany Thessulan Curse, didn't you?" Rob asked.

"This is it?" Fred said, voice high with excitement.

"Yes," Rob pulled himself up proudly. "We had to search various texts, some not even from this dimension! But we found it! It's all there, as you asked, Mr Wyndham-Pryce, with the original script, translations and commentaries. And there's the lists of the things you'll need to perform the spell and the suppliers."

"Very thorough," Wes nodded. "Thank you, Mr Jenkins, I'll take it from here."

Rob nodded and excused himself. Fred laughed, clapping her hands.

"This is the best news!" she cried.

"Is it wrong that I think this place is effortlessly streamlined in a way that I find oddly alluring?" Wes asked, looking up at her with a slight smile.

"No," Fred shook her head. "But who needs effortless efficiency when you've got all the fun we have?"

"True," he nodded.

"I can't wait to tell Angel!"

"Neither can I. I think this will put a smile on even his face."

Fred laughed and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing tightly as he dropped the file on the desk.

When she pulled back, she caught his eye and this time he didn't hesitate in cupping her cheek and kissing her hard.


	12. Between Love and Eternity

_**Escape  
**_**Chapter Twelve: Between Love and Eternity**

* * *

_Between love and eternity, there is only death._

* * *

Spike slammed the door of his apartment hard behind him, turning to ram his fist into the wall. With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall, grabbed fistfuls of his hair and shook his head.

"Bloody, bloody hell," he muttered. "Stupid, stupid soul. Had to be so goddamn reasonable!"

He could have fought for her. He probably would have lost, but at least he would be able to look back in the decades to come and say he didn't give her up without trying.

But he couldn't say that now. Because he had walked away. Hell, he was running away, as far as Cleveland.

Cleveland had never been an option before, he hadn't even thought about it until she said she had chosen Angel.

Well, fuck Angel. What did it take to live up to him? What exactly had Angel ever done for her? Turned evil on her, tried to kill her and her friends, tried to end the world, then dumped her in a sewer. And yet he was the one she chose.

"Like you'd have been such an improvement on Angel," Spike said to himself.

He wouldn't.

He had spent the first four years he knew Buffy and her friends trying to kill them and that didn't stop when he got the chip. He had been surly, stubborn, spiteful and unhelpful, only changing when he realised he was in love with her and by then, it was too late.

Then what had he done? Instead of helping her cope with what had happened to her because of her resurrection, he had enticed her again and again into his bed, knowing deep down that it was making things worse.

Then there was the bathroom incident.

No, he wouldn't have been any kind of improvement on Angel. And even if he was the better choice, what did it matter, when Buffy had been in love with Angel since she was sixteen?

In the end, what comes between love and eternity when the love was so obviously destined?

"Only death, according to Romeo and Juliet," Spike answered himself, shaking his head. "And with those two, even death doesn't count..."

* * *

"Is the translation accurate?"

Wes glanced up, then squinted down again at the carefully typed translation.

"Yes," he answered, though he had no idea whether it was accurate or not. And at that moment, he wasn't sure if he cared. "Fred…?"

"Wes," she said, at the same moment, turning to face him with an air of determination. "Oh, sorry, what did you want to say?"

"No, no. You go first."

"We, uh, we kinda… sorta… kissed," she said, blushing slightly.

He lowered his gaze, waiting for the thoughts that told him how beautiful she was when she blushed to clear. It wasn't like he didn't know already that she was beautiful when she blushed. Or when she laughed, cried, got angry or even yawned.

"We did," he nodded, voice careful and measured.

"Kinda back to front, don't you think?" she asked.

"Pardon?" he blinked, uncertain of whether what she was saying was good or bad.

"Well, don't you normally take the girl to dinner or to a movie before you kiss her?"

"Pardon?"

"Do you have any idea how English you sound?"

"Pard – I mean, what?"

"Let me spell it out for you, Wes," she chuckled, coming toward him and leaning over his desk. "There's been something there for a little while now and I… I like it. I like you, you like me, so how about dinner?"

"Dinner _and_ a movie?" he asked, pushing his voice around his dry throat, attempting to sound suave.

"You paying?"

"Do I get a kiss if I do?"

"The way you kiss, you get one even if we go to a taco stand," Fred replied, licking her lips suggestively.

"Really?" he murmured, leaning toward her to capture her lips.

* * *

Spike dragged himself to the door, feet heavy, fingers clumsy as he reached for the door.

He blinked when he saw who was standing in his doorway and stepped back in silent invitation. She met his eyes for only a moment, before lowering her head and scuttling past him down the hall, through the open door at the end into the living room.

When Spike had blinked away his shock and made his way to the living room, she was slumped in the soft black leather couch.

"XBox, huh?" she said as he sat opposite her.

"Yeah, though that wasn't as big a surprise as you showing up on my doorstep. Any reason you're here, Buffy?"

She shrugged, slumping even further into the couch.

"I wanted to talk."

"I thought we did all our talking earlier," Spike answered.

"But, after you left, I thought about some stuff and I realised…"

"You realised…?"

"That I'd made a mistake," she glanced up and met his eyes briefly, before lowering her gaze again.

Spike gulped and settled back. Of course, he knew what she was saying and his first instinct was to leap across to her and make love to her on the couch.

But he was suspicious. Her eyes looked red and her cheeks vaguely blotchy. His fingers tightened in the arms of the chair, his jaw clenched and he waited before he answered her.

"What makes you think that?" he asked after a moment.

She looked up with a frown, then met his eyes with a challenging green gaze and shook her hair back, lifting her chin.

"It's you, Spike," she said. "Not Angel."

His fingers tightened again in the leather as he leaned forward.

"Buffy…" he said, voice rough with frustration and annoyance. She couldn't do this to him. She couldn't mess him about like this.

He knew the score. He knew how this story ended and it didn't end with Spike and Buffy smoochies. It ended with him as far away as possible and her happy with Angel. That was just the way it was.

But according to Buffy, it didn't have to be that way.

"You were wrong, Spike. When I said I loved you in Sunnydale, you were wrong when you said I didn't. I love you, Spike," she hoped he didn't hear the crack in her voice.

She had wandered around LA for an hour before she realised she was barely two blocks from his apartment. So she made her way there.

She wasn't lying, she did love Spike. It might not be the way she loved Angel, but it was love and Buffy didn't want to consider a future without love.

Spike could give her the passion she craved, he could comfort her, play the dutiful boyfriend, he'd do it all willingly, she knew.

So he wasn't as tall as Angel, his eyes were too blue, his features sharp and confrontational. So he made her prickle instead of melt when he touched her. The differences between Spike and Angel were minor, she could live with them.

She had expected him to have reacted by now. But he hadn't. He was staring at her, a blank look on his face. She almost sighed in frustration and got up, came towards him, cupping his chin and drew him in. Her lips brushed his and she reached around his neck to caress his hair.

So his lips weren't as full as Angel's, his hair slightly softer. It didn't matter. Why should it?

When she leaned in a little more to deepen the kiss, he pulled back sharply, staring at her.

"What?" she asked, a little breathless.

"We can't," he muttered, pushing her back and sliding out of the chair.

He was across the room in a few strides and watched her as she turned and sank into his vacated chair.

"I thought -" she stopped, pursed her lips and looked away.

"What? You thought I loved you?" Spike asked. "Damn right, Buffy. I do love you. And God knows I want you. But I don't want you like this."

"Like what?" she replied, genuinely confused.

"What's Angel done, eh?" Spike asked, ignoring her question. "What's he done that's got you round here making a pass at me?"

"You think this is a pass? This isn't a pass. This me _giving_ you what you want."

"No, it's not," Spike turned away, staring out the window, feeling sunlight dance across his skin as it flooded through the specially made windows. He ran a hand over his hair and sighed, then remembering her red rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks, he looked back at her. He frowned before asking. "Angel didn't do what I think he's done, did he?"

Buffy only shrugged, unwilling to answer.

"He broke up with you, didn't he?" Spike asked softly, coming back toward her and crouching in front of her. "Well. That was… unexpected."

"Huh. Tell me about it," Buffy muttered, then, as though realised what she said and the bitterness with which she said it, she cleared her throat. She shifted, sitting up and looking down into Spike's eyes. "But that's got _nothing_ to do with what I just told you."

"How stupid do you think I am, Slayer?" Spike replied, standing up and pacing. "I never believed what you said before I figured he broke up with you. I'm not gonna be your replacement for Peaches! I may not deserve much, but I damn well deserve more than that!"

"What do you want from me, Spike? I'm telling you I want to be with you! You, me and Dawn, we can be a family, we'll go to Cleveland with you -"

"So you get as far away as possible from lover boy?" Spike sneered. "No thanks. I think I'll like living as a bachelor. Now, you toddle on back to Angel and tell him it's him you really love."

"No."

"Well, that's just cutting your nose off to spite your face and you know it. You love him, Buffy. You've loved him since you met him. You loved him when he was trying to end the world. You loved him when none of your friends thought he was good for you. You loved him when he left you, you loved him when you were with Riley, you loved him when you were with me. You've never stopped loving him and he's never stopped loving you. Like I said before, you two are fated. So don't take the piss out of fate – go and tell him you're not letting him get away that easy."

"Beg him to take him back you mean?" Buffy asked, eyes narrowed.

"I didn't say beg," Spike corrected. "But bloody hell, if that's what it takes, if that's the last resort, yeah, beg him."

"Why are you telling me to do this?" Buffy asked, mystified.

"God knows. I don't know. I guess it's because… I love you. I want you to be happy. I wish you could be happy with me, but I'm an all or nothing kinda guy. I don't want another woman half in love with Angel. Been there, done that, got the bite marks. So off you go, love, tell him how you feel, yell, scream, do anything to get the message across. And yeah, if it comes to it, beg him."

"Sorry, Spike," she said softly, getting up and crossing the room to the door. "But I don't beg."

She left the living room and he heard her walk down the hall and leave the apartment. He closed his eyes.

When did he get so fucking, idiotically selfless?


	13. Breathless

**_Escape  
_Chapter Thirteen: Breathless  
**

Fred leaned over the tiny balcony of her room at the Hyperion, head thrown back as she gazed up at the sky. Dusk was slowly falling and Fred thought LA was never more beautiful than at dusk, with the darkness gentle and soft instead of hard and threatening. The lights of the town brightening like stars fallen from the Heavens.

"You know," she said to Wesley, who was at her side, staring at her rather than the sky. "There are more stars back home. You'll have to see that sometime."

"I'd like that," he answered, turning his attention to some distance point, frowning slightly.

"What?" she asked, suddenly aware that he was distant.

She felt a little cold, wondering whether he was thinking that maybe this was a mistake, that maybe he thought they wouldn't work as a couple. The laughter from earlier had faded and his brow was furrowed in concentration.

"I've been thinking," he answered slowly.

"Oh?"

"Yes. About Wolfram and Hart. I _think_ I might have found an answer."

Relief made Fred giddy and she giggled at the very idea that he would want to end it. He felt the same way she did – he had said so over Chinese – so he wouldn't want it to ever end. She closed the tiny distance between them, snaking her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder. He turned his head to kiss her head and twined his fingers through hers, heaving a happy sigh.

"Tell me," Fred prompted.

"We run it, do we not?" Wes asked.

"Yeah, they handed over total control."

"Then why not do with it what we will?"

"Huh?" Fred lifted her head to look at him, not sure what he meant.

"We only run the LA branch, but we can do what we want with it, that's part of the contract – they knew we wouldn't sign if we were forced to run an evil company. So we were allowed to change things. If that's the case, couldn't we just shut it down? Give the employees a severance payment and pack them off to another branch? Preferably in Timbuktu?"

Fred didn't answer for a moment, she was thinking about what he said. Then she grinned at him.

"That's a great idea, Wes!" she said, hugging his arm. "They can't complain if we give 'em severance, we don't have to worry about Wolfram and Hart operating in LA anymore _and_ we can get all their files before we shut it down. I know there's some weirdness going on between Buffy and Angel, so maybe we shouldn't bring up the cure for his curse just yet, but if all we're doing is shutting it down, we can handle it and the gang can help us, so Angel doesn't have to worry. He can focus on this thing with Buffy. I knew there was a reason I loved you, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce!"

She leapt into his arms and he spun her round before setting her back on the ground, hugging her tightly and smiling into her hair.

"And I knew there was a reason I loved you too, Winifred Burkle," he murmured in reply.

* * *

Lorne had noticed Fred and Wes carrying armfuls of leftovers up to her room and he had chuckled at Fred's waste-not-want-not attitude to food.

He had also smiled at the obvious couple-ness of them. The looks, the smiles, Wesley's obvious appreciation of Fred's butt when she strode up the stairs ahead of him.

He sighed and sank back on the couch, glancing at his teenage companions.

"How many is that now?" he asked.

"What?" Andrew asked.

"Couples, Muffin, how many couples is that now?"

"He called me Muffin," Andrew said smugly to Dawn, who looked up from painting her toe nails long enough to roll her eyes at Lorne.

"About four, isn't it?" Dawn asked. "There's Gunn and Gwen, Willow and Kennedy, Wes and Fred and I'd put money on Faith and Principal Wood."

"Wesley and Fred are an item?" Andrew asked, suddenly sitting up with an incredulous expression. "Since when?"

"Since forever, little buddy," Lorne replied. "Or, since they started working on those contracts at least. There's been a spark, Andrew, where've you been looking?"

He gave the boy a pointed look, then looked at Dawn. Andrew blushed and looked away, humming and eyeing the ceiling.

"Sit still, Andrew," Dawn complained. "You're ruining my Slut Red nail polish."

"Tell me that's not its real name, Sweet cheeks," Lorne groaned. "Because if it is, I'm gonna need a lie down. I thought it was bad when they renamed my favourite eyeliner Hooker. Can you say obvious?"

"Nah, it's really called Scarlet Woman," Andrew told him, grabbing the small bottle and sniggering. "Is that like Scarlet O'Hara? 'Oh, Rhett, Rhett, I do love you,'" his voice lowered from the high pitch, to a low rumble. "'Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.'"

"You're such a girl, Andrew," Dawn giggled, stretching her long slender legs out in front of her and wiggling her toes. "What d'ya think?"

"Nice," Andrew mumbled, shrugging.

"Gorgeous, sweetie, and you know it," Lorne said, smiling graciously.

"Good," Dawn nodded. "Because I'm gonna show 'em off in my new sandals and you, Andrew, are coming with me."

"I am? Where?" Andrew asked, looking up at her as she crossed the lobby barefoot.

"To the mall. I'm thinking sodas, ice cream, maybe some shopping. You man enough?"

"Uh, sure," Andrew squeaked.

"I'll be a few minutes," Dawn called over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs.

Andrew watched her until she disappeared and fidgeted and babbled about nothing in particular to a silent Lorne. Andrew leapt to his feet as though he'd been electrocuted when Dawn came back down the stairs, wearing the aforementioned sandals, possibly the smallest t-shirt Andrew had ever see and Capri pants that he could have sworn were so last summer according to Dawn herself.

"It's retro," she said, noticing his sceptical glance at her pants. "Wanna come, Lorne? There's this top I want your opinion on."

"Not tonight, honey-bun," Lorne replied. "I don't think Andrew could stand the pace. You kids have fun. You and me can shop and drop tomorrow."

"Ok, see ya later, Lorne," Dawn said, waving as she pushed open the door and waited for Andrew.

"Fare thee well, Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan," Andrew intoned, saluting proudly. Lorne wondered why he had ever revealed his true name to the eager teen.

"C'mon, you geek," Dawn said with a put-upon smile as she grabbed his elbow and yanked him out the door.

Lorne chuckled; shaking his head, then leaned back in the couch and sighed.

"Chalk up another one for Cupid," he said. "That'd be five. Now, if we could just sort out our own fairytale couple, I think love could well and truly be in the air…" he stood up, heading towards his room, singing in a love voice, "_Love is in the air, everywhere I look around. Oh, love is in the air, in every sight and every sound…_"

* * *

Angel was flicking through a pile of old files. Stuff from way back, covered with Cordy's cheerful scrawl and Wes's upright letters. He smiled at the notes crammed in the margin of one file.

_You've misspelled Fran'ni'kheim, Cordelia, the 'k' comes before the 'h.' And it's not exactly a demon, more of a spirit than anything else._

_It was a demon. It had hair, Wesley. And really bad taste in clothes._

_The same could be said for you, Cordy._

_You are so without doughnuts for the next month!_

Angel chuckled, vaguely remembering a frostiness back in the days when they worked out of Cordy's apartment, whenever Cordy brought in a box of doughnuts. He remembered asking Wes if he wanted one, but Wes had glanced at Cordy and replied stiffly that he was watching his figure.

He set the file to one side, intending to show it to Wes one day. They should remember the good old days. They should remember Cordy. She was part of the family after all.

"Mind if I interrupt?"

Angel glanced up, hiding the written war of words in a top drawer as he glared at Spike.

"Come to gloat?" he asked flatly.

"If only," Spike snorted, sitting down uninvited. "But as it happens, no, I've not come to gloat. I've come to talk."

"Annoy the hell outta me you mean. Just like always."

"It's about Buffy, you great tosser, but then, you already knew that."

"So you have come to gloat."

"No. I've come to tell you you're an idiot. You just have to play the bloody martyr all the time, don't you?"

"One of us has to, Spike," Angel answered. "And you aren't."

"Think you'll find you're wrong there," Spike muttered bitterly.

"What?" Angel asked, looking at Spike in confusion.

Spike sighed, shifted in the chair and ran a hand over his hair.

"She came to mine earlier," he said. "Buffy, I mean. Said she'd made a mistake, that it was me, not you. Said all the things I wanted to hear," he paused, meeting his Grandsire's eyes. "And she didn't mean a damned word."

Angel clenched his jaw, forcing himself to settle back in his chair.

"What do you mean?" he asked, voice hard.

"I mean she was lying," Spike smirked. "Almost had herself fooled. I coulda had her. Coulda taken her and the Bit to Cleveland with me, far away from you. She coulda been mine. But then I realised."

"Realised what?" Angel prompted impatiently, when Spike didn't go on immediately.

"That she'd never be mine," Spike answered. "She could be mine in every physical sense of the word. But it'd be Dru all over again. You remember her, don't you? I loved her more than anything, but you were always there, her Daddy. Even when you had your soul and disappeared, you were still there, between us. Thing is, Drusilla didn't mind begging you. Didn't mind begging you for anything. The Slayer… Well, she's got her pride. She doesn't beg."

"Spike," Angel gritted out. "You don't want to be talking to me anymore than I want to be talking to you, so why don't you say what you want to say and get the hell out of my hotel."

"Huh," Spike laughed. "You're still quite the party pooper. Thing is, Angel, I'm outta here in a couple of days. I'm off to Cleveland with whoever's going, whether they want me or not. So I'm gone, whether you two end up together or not. And that's what I don't get, why you broke up with her when I'm not even a threat."

"She told you she loved you before you died," Angel replied in a dull voice.

"So? She didn't mean it. You gonna dump her every time she tells Xander she loves him? Grow up, will you? If you want to be with her, for God's sake, will you go and tell her? Because she's never gonna ask you again. Ever. Your entire future and hers depend on what you're gonna do now. Make the right decision for once, Angel."

And with that, Spike stood up and left, leaving Angel staring at the empty chair.

When he heard the main door shut behind Spike, Angel stood and left the office, crossing the empty lobby to the main door. It was dark out and he was halfway across the courtyard when he ran into someone.

"Sorry," he muttered, starting to move past them. Then he stopped. "Buffy?"

"Angel?" the woman looked up at him, as though suddenly realising who he was.

"Buffy, I need to talk to you," he said urgently, reaching for her.

"I think you said it all, don't you?" she replied icily, pulling away from him and starting to head back into the hotel without so much as a backward glance.

He watched her go, hands balling into fists at his sides, mouth gaping as he struggled to find the right words to say. He had really screwed up this time. For the first time since he had first met her, Angel thought this was truly the end. This was the thing they didn't come back from.

And he didn't know what to do.

_"Your entire future and hers depend on what you're gonna do now."_

Spike's words echoed in his ears, making his skin prickle in annoyance, even as he realised Spike was right. This was the one moment he could change things, after this, there was no going back.

"I love you, Buffy!" he shouted, loud enough for everyone in the hotel to hear.

She froze, hand on the door of the hotel and glanced back over her shoulder at him.

"I think that's a bit late, don't you?" she answered, but her voice trembled slightly.

"Is it?" he asked, coming towards her. "Has it ever been too late for us?"

"Angel, you broke up with me. For no good reason!" her voice rose in anger, frustration and God, she just wanted to hit him for bringing this up _again._

"I was scared," he protested.

"Of what? Me?" her eyes widened and she looked so hurt he took a step back and sat down on a nearby bench.

"No," he shook his head and took a deep breath. "I was scared of me. Of what I feel. I was scared that someday in the future, you'd realise you chose the wrong guy and I knew that that would kill me. So I did what I always do."

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Buffy asked, lips pursed.

"It had been brought to my attention," he replied, with a wry grin. "You think you'd be willing to give this idiot another chance?"

She stared at him and he realised she was actually thinking about it. She was actually considering the two options that lay before her.

Her first option was say no, turn around, walk away, pack her things and get ready to leave for Cleveland in the morning.

Then she would live the rest of her life doing what she had always done. She would watch her friends fall in love, take care of Dawn until she finally left for college, marriage and a normal life. And she would be left alone, stuck with a sense of duty that would never leave her, despite all that had changed.

She would fall in and out of relationships that never quite fulfilled her, always wondering whether things might have different had she just taken that leap of faith.

Her second option was that leap of faith.

She could fall into Angel's arms now, feel those lips and arms again. Be one of her friends in love instead of just watching them. She could stay in LA, fighting the fight because she wanted to, let someone else help her take care of her sister, her friends, the world. She could wake up every morning in the arms of someone.

She would never have the regret, the _what if _that would constantly on the perimeter of her mind.

And if it went wrong? Well, if it went wrong, she would pick herself up and move on, like she had done countless times before. Sure, it would hurt like hell, just like the last time, but at least she would know it was over. For good. At least she would know she had tried.

Before she answered, she looked away, swallowed hard and closed her eyes. Then she turned to him and looked him dead in the eye.

"You break my heart again, Angel," she warned in a low voice. "And you're a dead man."

He shook his head and pulled her, laughing, into his arms, kissing her deeply enough to leave her breathless.

* * *

"Oh, look, an audience," Fred said, looking a little uncomfortable.

Dawn and Andrew had returned from the mall and were crammed onto the couch with Giles, Xander and Lorne. Gunn was in one of the chairs; Gwen perched on his knees, Buffy and Angel mirroring their position in the opposite chair. Willow and Kennedy were sitting on the floor with three of the Potentials that had remained with them.

"We've got an announcement to make," Wes said, clearing his throat a little.

"You're getting married?" Andrew asked, giving a delighted squeal that he quickly covered with a cough. "Uh, I mean, congrats."

Fred blushed and Wes looked awkward as he shook his head.

"No," he replied. "We've got an announcement concerning Wolfram and Hart."

"Oh?" Angel said.

"Yeah, Wes came up with a brilliant idea about getting out of it!" Fred beamed proudly at Wes who attempted to look modest.

"Come on, Wes, don't keep us in suspense," Dawn prompted. "We're dying to hear your brilliant idea."

"It's rather simple," Wes said slowly. "I just thought that as we run the LA branch of Wolfram and Hart, we could shut it down. Fred and I thought we could give the employees a small severance pay and send them to work in another branch. Fred suggested we keep as many of the files as we can for our own reference. This way, we're not breaking the contract, since we didn't agree to run it, just agreed to take over control. So we don't lose what we gained from our contract," he glanced shrewdly at Angel, knowing instinctively the not losing part would mean something to him. "And we gain a bit more in not having to worry about them anymore."

"Give the man a cookie!" Lorne cried. "That's pure genius. Oh, and you know when you mentioned keeping some files? Does that mean I get the entertainment files?"

"I'm sure we can work something out, Lorne," Wes smiled.

"That's great work, you two," Angel said, smiling sweetly at Buffy who kissed him with a girlish giggle.

"Oh my God!" Fred cried. "Are you two back together? Properly this time?" she looked delighted and grabbed Wes's hand with a happy grin. "Does this mean we can tell them about the cure for the Romany curse now?"

"Cure?" Angel asked, looking up sharply.


	14. Something You Can't Shake

**_Escape  
_Chapter Fourteen: Something You Can't Shake  
**

"… Glad to see you could all attend," Angel said, smiling rather too widely at those gathered before him.

They were in one of the conference rooms, the heads of departments watching Angel nervously. The A.I. gang, with the additions of Buffy and Gwen were watching with amused smiles from behind Angel.

"There's something I want to tell you," Angel continued. He paused, smirking, savouring the moment. "You're all fired."

"Is it me, or was that weirdly familiar?" Gunn muttered to Wes who arched an eyebrow at Angel's back.

There was a moment, while the news sank in, then there was outcry, as they leapt from their chairs.

"You can't do this!" one bleached blonde spluttered.

"Who'll run the departments?" a short balding man cried.

"Oh, no one," Wes replied. "In fact, you might want to pass on the 'you're fired' message to those working in your departments."

"You're dismissing everyone that works here?" the blonde gasped, sinking back into her chair.

"We'll sue!" someone cried. "We'll take you for everything you've got! You can't do this for no good reason."

"Every person working in this building will get a tidy amount in a severance payment, that should soften the blow," Angel said.

"And there's a branch of Wolfram and Hart in practically every state," Fred reminded them. "I'm sure you'll all find jobs."

"Now, if you don't mind, we've got things to do. I'd be grateful if you pass on the message," Angel waved them away, watching them go with satisfaction. He grinned at Buffy. "That felt better than I thought it would."

"Yep," Fred agreed heartily. "Now, how about we get down to sorting out those files, huh?"

The others nodded, slightly less enthusiastically than Fred and Wes, leaving Angel and Buffy alone in the large conference room. He sank into a chair, leaned back and smiled, drumming his fingers.

"Calm down," Buffy said softly. "Willow will come through. Any minute now, in fact."

"I don't get why I couldn't be there though," he said, lacing his fingers to stop them fidgeting.

"Because you'd distract her," Buffy replied, glancing at the clock on the wall. She noted the time with a slight tightening of her fingers on the back of his chair. "Angel…"

He gasped suddenly, back arching up suddenly, fingers clawing at the leather arms of the chair. Buffy let go of the back of the chair, skirting round it to grab his upper arms, squeezing as she looked down into his face. She watched his eyes flame suddenly and he went lax in her grip.

He felt suffocated and struggled for breath that he did not need, back arching again in his desperation. His skin itched and flamed, the heat making white spots dance in front of his eyes. Hollow silence weighed down almost painfully in his ears before screams echoed quietly, but gained in strength.

_"No, please, no…"_

_"Stop! I'll do anything, just stop, don't hurt her…"_

_"Just kill me, please. Don't hurt me anymore… Just kill me…"_

He squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed hold of his ears, trying to force the sound away, along with the images which began to rear up before his minds eye.

A man, cowering in the doorway of his home as Angelus and Darla bore down on him, teeth bloodied from the blood of the man's children. He gazed up at them from where he was slumped on his knees. His eyes flickered to Drusilla, hovering over Angelus's shoulder, cradling a dead child in her arms…

A younger man, tall, thin, washed pale with fear. Face tear stained, eyes filled with a horror they would never lose even if he lived to see daylight. A young woman shivered in Angelus's arms, murmuring the name of her lover. With a joyous smirk, Angelus pulled her close and buried his fangs in her neck, revelling in the heart broken cries of her lover as he turned his face away from the scene…

A woman, hands twined over her head, clothes shredded and bloodied. Her body slumped forward, no longer trying to press her knees together. Dried blood ran to her elbows, more trailing down her thighs. Her chest heaved as Angelus ran a blade across it. Her voice was raspy and dry as she begged, but it was music to Angelus's ears.

"Angel?" Buffy whispered, voice hesitant, a distant terror reminding her of the worst possible scenario. She gritted her teeth against that idea, tightened her grip on his arms and gave him a gentle shake, as she repeated in a stronger, firmer voice. "Angel."

At her voice, the visions faded, the screams along with them. He tried to focus on her, but new memories and voices filled his head.

_"You saved my life! Who are you?"_

_"Do you make a habit of this, saving damsels in distress? Wait, is that blood…?"_

_"That – that thing was trying to kill me! You saved us! Thank you!"_

A teenage boy, pushing lank green hair out of his eyes as he touched his bloodied mouth, checking the stud was still in place beneath his lip, staring at Angel with a mystified, awestruck gaze…

A woman, eyeing him up at down, tongue flickering out to moisten her lips seductively, as she dusted vampire dust from her shirt and wiped blood from her neck, before her eyes fluttered and she fell into his arms in a dead faint…

A couple, the woman clutching her boyfriend in white faced, white knuckled terror. The man stared at Angel, a mixture of suspicion and gratitude on his face. But it was the woman who expressed her thanks, reaching out with a trembling hand to touch Angel's arm and give it a thankful squeeze…

"Buffy," he said in a soft voice, reaching out to grab hold of her arms. He blinked as he straightened up slightly, a smile stretching across his face. "I think I might be cured!"

"Really?" Buffy asked, then gave him a seductive smirk. "Wanna test it?"

* * *

It was late evening when Lorne was strode down the hall, straight past Fred and Wes who were standing either side of one of the many doors on the Hyperion's first floor. He continued past them, hands in his pockets, whistling. Then he stopped, glanced back and turned with a sigh.

"Any reason you're listening at a door that isn't yours?" he asked.

"Sssh!" Fred hissed, spinning round to face him, waving her hands, attempting to communicate with him through gestures, though her lips remained pursed.

"Is that recognised sign language, pumpkin?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Wes opened his mouth to explain when the door swung open and Giles appeared, bag in one hand. He stopped when he noted the three of them at his door and looked at Wesley with a questioning frown.

"Packing, Rupert?" Wes asked, attempting to look innocent. "What a surprise."

"Yes, well," Giles answered, shrugging. "There's not much to pack, only what I've acquired since being in LA."

"Why _are_ you packing?" Fred asked.

"Ants in his pants, am I right?" Lorne guessed shrewdly.

"Something like that," Giles admitted. "But, uh, I think this is something I should say to everyone at once."

"Well, they're down there now," Lorne told him, thumbing over his shoulder towards the lobby. "Angel's telling 'em all about what happened at Wolfram and Hart. Oh, and then there's the little cure that's got him bobbing on his feet. Though I think our Miss Summers has got something to do with the glint in his eye."

"Yes," Giles answered slowly, looking embarrassed as he made his way to the lobby.

Dawn was the first to notice them on the stairs. She smiled at them, gave them a wave and turned back to listen to Angel. Then she looked back at them, eyes riveted on Giles's bag.

"A bag?" she asked, voice bordering on a shriek that drew everyone's attention to Giles, who hesitated on the stairs. "Why have you got a bag, Giles?"

"Giles?" Buffy said, pulling away from Angel to stare at him.

"Well, I had to go to Cleveland sometime," he said ruefully. "Someone's got to keep an eye on the Hellmouth. I think LA's in more than good hands."

"I've been thinking," Willow said softly. Buffy closed her eyes for a second, knowing instinctively what she was going to hear. She opened her eyes as Willow added. "And I think I should go too."

"Will!" Buffy cried, spinning to face Willow incredulously.

"Buffy, it's a Hellmouth," Willow said gently, but firmly, biting her trembling lip as she stood to take Buffy's hands. "Giles is gonna need a witch."

"Then I'm going too," Kennedy said, giving Willow a pointed look. "Whether you like it or not."

"Don't forget to count me in."

The group turned their stunned gaze away from Giles, Willow and Kennedy to see Spike staring in the doorway, carrying a holdall and smirking around a cigarette.

"Had a feeling tonight might be the night for the mass exodus," he continued. "So I packed up what I could carry from the apartment, hope you don't mind, Fred."

"Take what you like," Fred shrugged, then indicated the vast tottering piles of files stacked in one corner of the lobby. "We did."

"Anyway, thought I'd drop by and catch a ride," Spike grinned at Giles, stepped down into the lobby and swung an arm around his shoulders. "Next stop Cleveland, eh, Giles?"

"Oh, God help me," Giles muttered, closing his eyes as he pulled off his glasses to clean them.

"I guess we're staying, huh, Buffy?" Dawn asked.

Angel glanced at her, trying to suppress the hopeful expression he had the feeling made him look like a schoolboy. Buffy reached out, as though in a dream to take his hand and pull him to his feet, sliding an arm around his waist.

"Yeah," Buffy answered, voice sounding dazed. "Yeah, I guess we are."

Angel suppressed the whoop of glee and settled for lowering his head and grinning like a loon.

"Can I stay too?" Andrew asked, raising a hand, voice quiet and hesitant, almost sure he was going to be disappointed.

Buffy turned a blank gaze on him, too wrong footed by the sudden announcements of her friends to think much about his request.

But Dawn had rebounded quickly from her shock because she had been preparing herself. Unlike Buffy; she had no romantic entanglements to occupy her mind. Andrew's request had startled her, she had been sure that Andrew would go to Cleveland with the others to play Hero on the Hellmouth.

Now she shot him a quizzical look as Willow and Kennedy stood to pack their things.

* * *

Dawn leaned against the wall, flicking through a comic book of Andrew's that he had bought the previous day. He was bouncing around the room, eyeing up walls and attempting to shift the bed into another position.

"I think I might redecorate," he said. "Maybe paint it blue. Or green. Hey, or maybe silver, that would be so cool. And I'll need some posters. I might get a camera and take some pictures to put up, y'know, make the place more homey. And a TV and a DVD player so I can watch movies 'til dawn. And then I have to buy some more clothes and -"

"Why did you wanna stay?" Dawn asked suddenly, closing the comic and putting it back on the sideboard.

She crossed the room, hopping on the bed as she watched Andrew pause. He had reached the window and was clutching the old, moth eaten orange curtains. He gave them a sharp tug, coughed as he inhaled a cloud of dust. He turned away and staggered across the room, slumping onto the bed. Dawn rolled her eyes at him and thumped his back.

"Well?" she pressed, as he wiped his eyes and heaved one last gentle cough.

He rubbed his chest, avoiding her eyes and shrugged.

"No reason," he replied evasively.

"So why choose LA over Cleveland?" Dawn asked, pulling her legs up onto the bed, crossing them and leaning her elbow on her thigh, her chin propped in her hand.

Andrew continued to avoid her eyes, twisting the worn fabric of the bed sheet between his fingers.

"You," he mumbled.

"Me?" Dawn asked, straightening up in surprised, staring at him in shock.

"Yeah," he said defiantly, finally meeting her eyes with a challenging stare. He had finally admitted his feelings and he was suddenly fearless. "There's no Dawn in Cleveland. I wanted to stay with you."

"Why?" Dawn asked, still stunned, unable to voice anything beyond one word.

Andrew shrugged, blushing, his courage evaporating as suddenly as it had appeared.

"No reason," he muttered once more.

"Andrew?" Dawn asked, voice slightly stronger than before.

He glanced up, noted the odd expression on her face and frowned.

"Wha -"

On a sudden impulse, she leant forward, grasped his chin firmly in her hand and pressed her lips against his.

* * *

It was past midnight when they crowded once more in the lobby to say goodbye. Giles, Spike, Kennedy and the few Potentials who were going with them waited by the doors as Willow said her goodbyes.

"I need a friend," Buffy said quietly, glancing at Willow's small bag, set firmly on the lobby floor. "Won't you stay, Will?"

"Oh, Buffy," Willow replied, attempting a grin. "Cleveland's not so far."

"I'll stay."

The two women looked over at Xander, who shot them a lopsided smile.

"I'll stay in LA. If Will thinks she needs to go, she should go. But I'll stay. Buffy's gonna need at least one Scoob around."

Buffy almost gasped in relief that while she was losing one friend, one was remaining with her, as steadfast as ever. She grabbed hold of his hand.

"You mean that?" she asked. "I know how close you and Willow are..."

"We _are_ close," Xander said, taking Willow's hand. "And I think Willow knows I need to stay here and keep an eye on you, while she keeps an eye on Giles. Anyway, what's not to stay for? Free room, good works," he shrugged, allowing himself to be pulled into Buffy's arms. "Hugs on tap. What more could a guy ask for?"

"You," Buffy said, kissing Xander's cheek. "Are the best. And you, Willow," she reached out, pulling Willow into the hug, sniffing away tears. "You go to Cleveland. You take care of Giles," she ignored Giles snort at that. "But you make sure you keep in touch. I want daily phone calls. I want you visiting. Got it? I'm not losing one of the best friends I've ever had to some dumb Hellmouth, not anymore, ok?"

"Ok," Willow nodded, smiling, blinking away tears.

She buried her face in Willow's neck and felt Xander's hand stroke her hair as he kissed Willow's forehead. Buffy and Xander clutched Willow tightly, unwilling, yet knowing they had to let her go.

"Gonna miss you, Willow," Dawn said, hurrying down the stairs, dragging a wildly grinning Andrew behind her.

Willow caught her up in her arms and hugged the girl tightly, rocking her as she and Tara had done so many times before. With a happy sigh, Dawn leaned her head on Willow's shoulder, smoothing her hand over the soft cotton shirt Willow wore.

"Miss you too, Dawnie," Willow whispered.

While Dawn said her goodbyes to Willow, Xander and Buffy turned to Giles.

Xander extended his hand to the ex-Watcher.

"See ya, G-Man," he said.

"Goodbye, Xander," he took Xander's hand and surprised himself when he pulled him into a brief hug, just long enough for him to whisper, "Well done, my boy, well done."

"Yeah," Xander pulled back, squeezing Giles' hand in gratitude. "Thanks, Giles. You, uh, you take good care of Willow for me, ok? You too, Kennedy. Keep her safe, make her happy."

"I will," Kennedy nodded.

"We'll do our best," Giles said.

"Spike," Xander nodded in Spike's direction. "Good luck."

"You too, Harris," Spike replied carefully. "Keep an eye on Bit. I think Andrew's got designs on her."

Xander nodded and walked away to give Willow a final hug.

"Gonna miss you," Buffy said softly, almost shyly to Giles.

"I'll miss you too, Buffy," Giles said and chuckled as she grabbed him in a tight hug.

"I love you, Giles," she mumbled, slightly embarrassed, but determined to say it nonetheless. Because she meant it, she had always meant it and she always would.

"Same here, Buffy," he replied gently as she pulled back.

He felt tears prick in his eyes and blinked them away, coughing slightly to cover his awkwardness. Buffy smiled and rolled her eyes at his overt Englishness.

"You'll visit?" Dawn asked, having pulled away from Willow.

She looked a little lost as she stared up at Giles, a little uncertain of what to say or do.

"Of course," he nodded, giving the girl a hug. "Take care of your sister."

"I will," Dawn said, giving Giles a pointed look as she glanced back at Buffy, then Angel. He nodded and raised his eyes at that, making Dawn laugh at his somewhat exasperated expression.

Buffy missed the look exchanged between her ex-Watcher and younger sister; she had stepped aside and found herself standing before Spike.

"Slayer," Spike said in a measured tone.

"Spike," Buffy said, she extended her hand and shook his hand firmly. "Thank you," she said firmly. "For everything. You did good, Champ."

"Ditto," he said, glancing over her shoulder at Angel. He gritted his teeth as he did so and ground out, "Best man won. Remember that, you'll never hear it again."

"Goodbye, Spike," Angel said carefully, watching Buffy squeeze his shoulder and pull away as Dawn stepped in to give Spike a tight hug.

"Ahem."

The general hug-fests broke apart and they all turned to stare in disbelief at a casually entwined Faith and Wood, standing in the main door.

"We're not interrupting anything are we?" Robin asked.

"You guys busy?" Faith asked. "'Cause we could go out and come back in again."

"Faith, you're just in time for goodbyes. I, um, guess you're going to Cleveland too?" Buffy asked, strangely worried by that thought.

"No way, B. Me and Robin are settling in the good old City of Angels. As good a place as any."

"For what?" Buffy asked, playfully pushing Angel back as he nuzzled her neck.

Faith pulled Robin even closer, if that were possible, and planted a kiss on his cheek. It was only when she placed her free hand in the middle of his chest that everyone's attention was drawn to her hand.

There were gasps from Willow, Dawn and Fred and stunned stares from the others as it dawned on them. Buffy blinked, Angel's teasing fingers suddenly lax on her hips, amazement plummeted into her stomach and she swayed. In a stunned gasp, somewhere between disapproval and amusement she voiced what everyone in the lobby was thinking:

"Faith, is that a ring on your finger…?... Faith!"

* * *

If you feel like leaving  
Well, I'm not gonna  
Beg you to stay  
Soon you'll be finding  
You can run  
You can hide  
But you can't escape my love

- _Escape, _Enrique Iglesias

* * *

_**The End.**_


End file.
